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JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN 




JUSTICE TO THE 
WOMAN 

BY 

BERNIE BABCOCK 



CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
1901 




the library of 

CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Receive* 

SEP. 4 1901 

CJOPVPISTHT ENTRY 

CLASS ^ XXot N*. 

/V&5Z 

COPY A. 



Copyright 

By A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
A. d. 1901 


RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 

TO MY ESTEEMED FRIEND 


WM. P. F. FERGUSON) 






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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 



PAGE 

I 

THE NIGHT IN THE BOAT 

- 

- 

9 

II 

A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS 

- 


- 25 

III 

DARIAH PLUNKETT, WITNESS 

- 

- 

47 

IV 

DOCTOR HERNANDO 

- 


- 65 

V 

A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN 

- 

- 

81 

VI 

STONE CHANGED TO FLESH 

- 


- 98 

VII 

MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON 

- 

- 

118 

VIII 

ON AN OLD LOG RAFT 

- 


- 142 

IX 

A POCKET-BOOK ENCOUNTER 

- 

- 

162 

X 

A MODERN BRIAN DE BOIS GUILBERT - 


- 182 


PART II. 


XI 

DARIAH DISCOVERS THE VEERY 

- 

202 

XII 

XIII 

TELSA SEES HER FATHER 

MADAM G’SELLE BLAUVET 


- 223 

244 

XIV 

XV 

MIGNON CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO 

A TROUBLESOME NEW WOMAN 


- 261 

279 

XVI 

XVII 

IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED 

MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON 


- 295 

314 

XVIII 

XIX 

DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA 

IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS 


- 335 

353 



JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE NIGHT IN THE BOAT. 

Dariah Plunkett had just quitted an unusually 
successful seance in a spiritual Sandtown cabin and 
was picking his homeward way across a waste of saw- 
dust and between the piles of fresh slabs and mis- 
cellaneous scraps of sawmill refuse that littered the 
borders of Sandtown even to the door-yards of its 
motley cabins. 

The scent of fresh pine hung heavy on the night 
air, and against the pale sky lit by a waning moon, 
a ragged outline of smokestacks and logslides showed 
distinctly, w r hile beyond it all, the restless, lapping 
weaves of the lake beat against a long stretch of beach, 
their distant echo falling on the heavy air like the 
labored, half-hushed breathing of some sleeping mon- 
ster. 


10 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Before him, somber against the sky, Black Hill 
towered, and it was toward the way that twisted itself 
around this hill, high above the river, that he turned 
his steps. 

Dariah Plunkett walked briskly for a man of fifty 
some odd years, for a season spent with the spirits 
gives one a feathery feeling no less in the heels than 
in the head, and the seance he had but left had been 
an unusually lively one. Tables had tipped; chairs 
had paid their compliments to one another and had 
danced right merrily; knocks had sounded; spirit- 
fingers had traced messages on slates; and spirit- 
hands had patted shoulders longing for a familiar 
touch. 

As he entered the gloom of the winding way 
around Black Hill, it seemed to Dariah that he again 
heard the voices of spirits*. 

He stopped and glanced cautiously around. 

The conical, grizzly hill, with its top-trimming of 
stunted pines, frowned in silence. 

The slanting rays of the moon fell across the 
river below, casting long bars, and the morbid gurgle 
of the water as it washed the roots of the trees was 


THE NIGHT IN THE BOAT. 


11 


answered by the far and indistinct tumbling of the 
lake waves. 

After a short pause he started on again, his chin 
as was its habit jumping and quivering vehemently. 
This agitation, it should be explained, was due to 
some spirit agency, which being satisfactory to 
Dariah himself, caused him small annoyance, and 
was not to be taken at all times as a sign of inward 
perturbation. 

Midway across the narrow board walk that hugged 
the gloomy bank high over the stream, he paused a 
second time. 

The scent of a fine cigar distinctly reached his 
nostrils. 

He mused. 

Spirits might materialize, but within the bounds 
of his knowledge smoke had not materialized; so 
being possessed of the usual curiosity men honestly 
inherit from their maternal ancestry, he looked and 
listened. 

For a time, only the guttural play of the sluggish 
water beneath him and the distant swish on the 
beach line broke the stillness, then the running of 


12 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


the river water and its distant lake echo were broken 
by a woman’s voice. 

Dariah Plunkett listened eagerly, but for a time 
the rhythm of the water was the only sound that 
broke the stillness. 

Then the woman’s voice reached his quick ear a 
second time, and after another pause, a man’s voice 
sounded, rather sharp and quite distinctly. 

“ Sit down. You will upset the boat.” 

Dariah Plunkett crouched low and peered through 
the mat of boughs that overhung the steep bank. 

When his eyes had become accustomed to the 
gloom he discovered the outlines of a small boat near 
the shore. 

In one end was a man leaning comfortably on his 
elbow. 

Before him stood a woman, her figure showing 
indistinctly in the shade. 

“ I will promise — of course — anything on earth, 
but sit down ” — and he spoke with evident irrita- 
tion. 

“ But I am in earnest — awful, awful earnest! ” 

“ So am I.” 


THE NIGHT IN THE BOAT. 


13 


The woman stood quietly a moment longer, then 
said in a wild, despairing way, “But tell me when? 
For God’s sake, tell me when! ” 

The man straightened up leisurely, and catching 
hold of the woman’s hand, drew her to his side. 

For a moment it was still, then she suddenly 
threw her arms around his neck and pressing her 
head against his breast hurst into a fit of hysterical 
weeping. 

The man bent his head and kissed her. 

Dariah Plunkett, scarcely daring to breathe, hung 
his head over the edge of the walk and strained his 
eyes. 

Whether tragedy or farce he knew not, but the 
thing gave promise of being more interesting than 
spirit happenings, which was sufficient guarantee of 
its importance. 

For a short time the sobs of the woman mingled 
with the faint roll of the distant water and the 
gurgle in the shadows, then she grew more quiet and 
the man spoke softly and soothingly, but so closely 
were his words watched by the man with the jump- 


14 JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 

ing chin who hung above, that little of what was said 
escaped him. 

“But I thought you loved me, deary?” he was 
saying. 

“ I do — I do,” she answered, catching her breath 
in a last effort to stop the sobs. 

“ But real love is proven by patient waiting and 
implicit trust.” 

“ And haven’t I waited, and haven’t I trusted ? 
0, haven’t I? ” and there sounded again in her voice 
the note of despair. 

“ Don’t talk so loud,” he said, the touch of irrita- 
tion again noticeable in the manner of his speech. 
“ You have trusted well and have been patient, but 
is there a time limit to be placed on trust when love 
rules souls?” 

“ I could wait and wait forever if ” 

“ Yes, yes,” he interrupted. “ You say you could ; 
but do you not love me now as much as if we had 
been married ten times over? ” 

“Love you?” and the quick catch came into her 
voice. “ You know it. If all the world with its honor 
arid its wealth were on one side and you stood alone 


THE NIGHT IN THE BOAT. 


15 


on the other, I should go to you — and I have done 
it — I have. But it all seems wrong. I cannot rest — 
I cannot sleep — I am afraid! ” 

“ Afraid, afraid of what?” 

“ Something awful might happen before we are 
married.” 

“ What awful thing? ” 

Again there was a pause in the conversation, the 
stillness broken only by the play of the waters. 

Vague and growing fears had beset the woman 
until she was well-nigh overwhelmed with apprehen- 
sion,' and yet she would not, dared not let these fears 
resolve themselves into the shape they seemed bent 
on doing. 

“ You might — might die.” And she shuddered as 
she said the words. 

The man laughed and threw his cigar stump into 
the water. 

"No danger,” he said, assuringly. 

“ But if anything should happen before our wed- 
ding-day? ” he added in a slightly changed voice, 
“ what would you do ? ” 

She turned half around and pointed. 


16 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ Do you see right over there, where the water 
whirls round and round like a black serpent? I 
would throw myself right into its very center, and 
if I woke up in hell itself it could never be worse 
than to live without you. In all this wide world 
nobody loves me but you — I am alone. Be good 
to me.” 

He brushed back the hair from her forehead. 

“ Little deary, you are mine. Of course I will be 
good to you. You shall be treated like a queen and 
I will never forget you for one minute.” 

“ And we will be married to-morrow? ” 

“ Hardly so soon, I am afraid.” 

“ The next day? ” 

“ I should not like to promise.” 

“ Next Wednesday, then. I cannot wait. I have 
been ready weeks and weeks and the suspense is 
driving me mad.” 

“ Suppose I said next Wednesday, and then found 
I could not meet the engagement, would you think 
I had forgotten you? ” 

“Ho, no; but give me your sacred promise.” 

“ Haven’t I made you every conceivable sort of a 


THE NIGIIT IN THE BOAT. 


17 


promise, and sworn to it by everything holy in heaven 
and honorable on earth ? ” 

“ I want another promise, the most solemn prom- 
ise of all, a vow before Almighty God.” 

“ All right,” he said easily, “ anything to satisfy 
you. Fix up your most solemn vow and when it is 
ready, so will I be.” 

“ When you were little did your mother hear your 
prayers at night? I suppose all mothers do. Then 
raise your face to God as you did then and I will 
say the words for you.” 

“ That’s a curious way to take an oath and con- 
foundedly childish, but go ahead,” and he lifted his 
face to heaven at her direction. 

“ In the presence of Almighty God,” she said 
softly, and he repeated it, “ I do solemnly swear and 
promise that I will marry the woman whose hand 
I hold and whose trust has been given into my keep- 
ing, next Wednesday afternoon.” 

When she reached the last two words he hesitated, 
then repeated them, adding, “if possible.” 

“ Do you feel better now? ” he questioned. 

“ What happens to a man who vows a solemn 


18 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


vow before Almighty God and breaks it? ” the woman 
inquired by way of answering his question. 

“ He suffers a bitter and endless retribution.” 

“ A bitter and endless retribution/’ she repeated, 
then added softly, “ This night God has registered 
your promise.” 

“ You are very childish, Mignon,” the man said, 
with something like a yawn. 

“ I am afraid so — I thought we should have had 
a witness.” 

At this remark the man laughed heartily, but 
Dariah Plunkett clutched the rough ends of the 
boards overhead convulsively and leaned dangerously 
out over the beetling walk, while his chin jumped 
with unwonted vigor. 

He had an idea of the nature of the case, and 
though he could not distinguish the features of 
either of the two, he recognized his importance, for 
indeed the woman had a witness, and he was that 
man. 

A longing desire to drop L hrough the branches 
like a panther upon them took possession of him, 
and he smiled in anticipation of the consternation 


THE NIGHT IN THE BOAT. 


11) 


such an act would cause., but neither being sure that 
he would fall into the boat, nor that it would not 
capsize if he should, he gave up this desire as he had 
given up many another inviting scheme. 

The stroke of an oar drew his mind from the dis- 
tinction he had achieved and he watched with breath- 
less interest as the man rowed out of the shadows 
into the bars of light. 

The voices of the two were fixed in his mind for 
all time, but it yet remained for him to see their 
faces. 

When the boat glided into the band of silver 
hanging across the river, Dariah saw that the man’s 
back was toward him — the back of a broad-shoul- 
dered, well-proportioned man, wearing a tall hat. 

The woman faced him, but at that distance her 
features were scarcely distinguishable, but her hair 
was dark as an ebony frame around her face, and in 
the flood of low-hanging light she looked almost too 
beautiful to be real. 

The witness arose from his cramped position, gave 
his knees a couple of twists and then hung over the 
railing with his eyes fixed on the little boat until it 


20 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


dissolved into a tiny specif and vanished in the 
shadows of the bridge piers. 

With a short sigh he straightened up, shook him- 
self, and removing his hat, rubbed his brow vigor- 
ously with the back of his hand as if to make sure 
he were yet a creature of the’ mundane sphere. 

His chin worked up and down in regular, rapid 
strokes. 

“ S-s-she talks like a v-veery and b-by goll, she 
is a v-veery;” and he shaded his eyes with his hands 
and cast a long look across the river. 

The irregular silver bars shimmered across the 
black face of the sleepy river unbroken by a speck. 

The dull, far-away break of the running waves 
pulsated on the night air and caught the ear of the 
listening man, and he glanced at Black Hill behind 
him, then once again began a hurried homeward 
walk, making mental comment on the face he had 
seen as in a dream, and the voice of the “veery.” 

After reaching his home he hastily disrobed, hung 
his garments on a peg and donning his night-gown 
and cap stretched himself on his narrow cot to rest, 
but fate had ordered things otherwise. 


THE NIGHT IN THE BOAT. 


21 


Hardly had he closed his eyes when a loose, chuck- 
ling rapping was distinctly heard. It sounded first 
in one and then another corner of the room, and 
while the noise and the vibration was distinctly 
heard it seemed to come in contact with neither wall 
nor ceiling. 

At first sound of the loose, indescribable knock- 
ing, Dariah Plunkett’s eyes flew open and he assumed 
a sitting posture, for while it was true that he was 
no Chesterfield in his deportment with ordinary mor- 
tals, he was all attention and courtesy in his relation 
with his spirit friends. 

“ O-Ouijah?” 

This question, meekly put, was answered by three 
raps, which, being interpreted, spelled “ yes.” 

“ A c-communication? ’’ 

Three raps. 

“ Have you f-found the rascal that s-s-stole my 
s-s-shoes? ” 

Tw t o raps. 

“Not yet? The fool ’ll have them wore to a 


f-frazz.” 


22 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


The spirit made no comment on this remark. It 
was irrelevant. 

“ A w-word for Widder S-s-mith? ” 

Two raps. 

After propounding several other questions and 
being answered in the negative, Dariah mused a 
while, and then thinking that perhaps Ouijali had 
made a mistake, he again sought rest. 

Immediately the loose rattling began to play 
around the corners of the room with renewed vigor. 

Sleep was entirely out of the question until the 
important communication had been received from 
spirit headquarters. 

His mind had been so absorbed with the later 
occurrences of the night that he could hardly re- 
member the list of those whom the message might 
be for, and it finally came to his mind that it might 
be something new, and the foremost question in his 
mind presented itself. 

“ Do you k-know the v-veery? ” 

Three raps. 

“ Has she a father ? 99 

Two raps. 


THE NIGHT IN THE BOAT. 


23 


“ P-poor thing! A brother? ” 

Two raps. 

“ No man, h-by goll! She’d ought t-to have. Will 
the m-man m-marry the v-veery?” 

Three raps. 

“ Certain? ” 

Three raps. 

“You swear it?” 

Three raps. 

Dariah Plunkett rubbed his hands and smiled for 

joy- 

“When?” 

No answer. 

Then Dariah laughed. 

“ D-Dariah, you f-fool, how does Ouijah know 
when the p-party hisself hasn’t decided? ” 

“Shall I see them again?” 

No answer. 

“ I’m a witness; shall I see them again? ” 

No answer. 

Dariah waited a few moments longer, meditating 
on the glorious disposition of a spirit that would 
take a trip five thousand miles through space to set 


21 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


at rest a matter that promised to tty his strange old 
soul even more than the loss of his shoes had done. 

A third time he sought his bed. 

His chin steadied itself into a slow, gentle quiver 
and stopped; his eyelids drooped and with a long, 
peaceful snore, he launched into the land of dreams. 


CHAPTER II. 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 

Border City was situated on a lake, a river, and 
three railroads; consequently its mixed population, 
from the commonest Swede laborer to its most 
exclusive millionaire mill-owner, recognized its im- 
portance. 

Border City began on the lake shore where the 
river ran inland. 

Here were spread the mills, irregular in succes- 
sion, and these with the tenements of Sandtown made 
the first installment of the city. 

The road from the mills wound around Black Hill 
and ran for a distance as the principal street of the 
city proper, for here were the shops and churches 
and boarding-houses and the unpretentious cottages 
of the middle classes. 

Upper Terrace was the last and crowning install- 
ment of Border City, and if the toiling hundreds in 

Sandtown ever wondered why they wrought, they 
25 


26 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


bad but to take a stroll along this boulevard, for here, 
in magnificent array, were the granite and brick 
mansions with their outlook over the city and away 
to where the lake glistened like a long blue satin 
band. 

It was in that part of the city, where a butcher- 
shop adjoined a shoe-store and a church, and a feed- 
house occupied the same block, that the Widow 
Brunhaven kept a boarding-house. 

The Widow Brunhaven was not a native of Border 
City; few persons were, and she did not regret this, 
for caste among citizens born in Border City was con- 
siderably below par, its real aristocracy having 
brought their social distinction and pedigree from 
some distant state or city. 

The Widow Brunhaven was no exception to this 
rule. She had been the wife of the late Captain 
Brunhaven, of some reputation, and had formerly 
held a position of consequence in her native town. 

But when Captain Brunhaven, following the 
example of his ancestors, died, she found nothing to 
live on but his cherished reputation, which, in the 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


27 


face of sundry grocery and meat bills, proved inade- 
quate. 

Thus it became necessary for her to look about for 
a place to keep boarding-house, this being the only 
branch of economics she understood. 

Like the course of empire, she turned her way 
westward to the thriving little city where boarding- 
houses were in good demand. 

She had some misgivings as to crossing the boun- 
dary line and at her age entering this other state, for 
two reasons. 

First, she was not sure that the class of boarders 
that might come to her would appreciate her posi- 
tion in life due to her late husband’s cherished repu- 
tation; neither might they fully appreciate the china 
and silver she had been a lifetime collecting, and 
either of these offenses would be enough to make her 
miserable. 

But a second and greater fear caused her to hesi- 
tate for a time. 

The state to which she contemplated moving, had 
in a moment of excessive chivalry or pure selfishness, 


28 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


granted the female portion of its citizens their right 
of franchise. 

Mere talk of suffrage, the Widow held to be an 
exhibition of a dangerous taste, and its exercise be- 
neath the contempt of all well-balanced females; 
therefore, she weighed well the matter of moving 
among such a degenerate people, and would no doubt 
have weighed the matter indefinitely had not neces- 
sity intervened to stay the process. 

So it happened that in due course of time the 
Widow Brunhaven found herself installed in a clean, 
roomy house with enough quiet, respectable people 
to fill it. The china and silver were more than appre- 
ciated by the clerks and bookkeepers who ate at her 
table, and no ranting % suffragist worried her peace or 
menaced her property. 

Indeed, after having cornered all the saloons in a 
certain narrow limit, the women of Border City had 
left the matter of voting in the hands of a few war- 
horses of the movement and had returned to their 
domestic labors and social functions, just as if they 
possessed no jawbone of a ballot with which to work 
mischief on unsuspecting male Philistines. 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


29 


The Widow Brunhaven kept a house of the first 
class. Indeed, such a good name had her house 
earned that, strangers on inquiring for the best in its 
line were referred to her establishment. 

Many had come; many had gone; tall, short, 
lean, fat, old, young, homely, and dashing, both male 
and female; but among the number of dainty and 
fair women that it had been her fortune to accommo- 
date, Mignon Dermot stood pre-eminent. 

When the Widow Brunhaven first saw her she 
was certain there stood in her doorway the leading 
lady of some theatrical company, and in her mind’s 
eye she saw the charming woman domiciled in her 
best blue-and-white chamber. 

After the young person had inquired rates and 
had selected the smallest and cheapest room in the 
house, the Widow Brunhaven took occasion to give 
her stylish dress a more careful examination. 

This dress hung in folds that might have been the 
envy of a fashion plate, but close scrutiny revealed 
the fact that it had been made over. The shiny shoes 
that peeped from under its border, on sober second 
glance, bore evidence of wear and shoe polish. The 


30 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


gloves that encased her small, slender hands, fitted 
like a second skin, but they, too, had known previous 
wear. 

Nevertheless the girl was a jewel, such a one as 
cannot be marred with a setting of made-over stuff, 
and the Widow Brunhaven found it hard to keep 
from being rude, so charmed was she with the appear- 
ance of her new boarder. 

The young woman’s head, which she carried like a 
princess, was crowned with hair as purple black as a 
raven’s wing, and from under the back coil little 
soft curls clustered against her neck like a baby’s 
hair. From her face it turned back in a shiny roll, 
but here, as behind, the dark hair strayed out in 
silky rings. 

Her eyes were grey and clear as the deep spots in 
a mountain stream and her lashes hung above them 
like a fine-spun fringe. 

Tf her face had been less beautiful, even then she 
would have been attractive by her form, and voice, 
which was gentle, with a pleasing turn like a note in 
minor music; so, notwithstanding that her clothes 
had been made over and that she occupied the small- 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


31 


est room in the house, she was by long odds the most 
attractive boarder the Widow Brunhaven had ac- 
commodated and it afforded her some pleasure to 
have her in the house. 

Many had been the solemn head shakes when 
Cornelius Mansfield first began his practice of drop- 
ping into Snyder’s big store to chat with the new 
girl in the notion department while he leisurely se- 
lected some worthless trifle, for Cornelius Mansfield 
had two reputations in Border City. 

One appeared in the newspapers, among society 
notes, and read well. 

The other was understood. 

Some observing mortals had made dire predictions 
when Mignon was first seen driving in company with 
the stylish Mr. Mansfield in his tailored top coat and 
tall silk hat, and as many as two Border City women 
— W. C. T. IT. mothers — had called upon the fair 
girl with a solemn note of warning, which had been 
kindly received but not acted on. 

The Widow Brunhaven was not of the opinion of 
the two mothers. It never occurred to her mind 
that any man could withstand the charms of the 


32 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


beautiful face and musical voice, not even the exclu- 
sive Mr. Mansfield, though it was well known that 
he had admittance to the most elegant parlors on 
Upper Terrace. 

So it pleased Widow Brunhaven to have Mr. Mans- 
field’s box buggy tied in front of her door. She 
watched the progress of the suit with more interest 
than she had watched a courtship since she had been 
interested in her own, and this was saying a good 
deal, for one of her failings had been watching 
courtships. 

Nothing escaped her watchful eye, and when one 
day she noticed a new ring on the slender finger of 
her favorite boarder she was almost as happy as the 
fair wearer herself. 

It was not just such a ring as she had supposed a 
man in the financial position of Cornelius Mansfield 
would choose for a betrothal ring, still it must have 
cost quite a pretty sum, and it answered the purpose. 

After this, dreams of a wedding in her house came 
to her vision; a wedding that might raise her house 
from the strata of bare respectability to that of real 
society. 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


33 


When Mignon finally quit the store to prepare for 
her wedding, the Widow was secretly happy, for the 
courtship had lasted months and months past the 
time limit she had set in her own mind. 

One week after another slipped away, busy weeks 
to the girl for she found it necessary to make her own 
trousseau, but at last it was finished and put away 
with loving touches and much care, and still the 
weeks went by and the Widow wondered why she 
was not notified to prepare a wedding supper, and 
she began to grow uneasy, the more so because Mig- 
non herself seemed at times restless and quite un- 
natural. 

Turning these vexing thoughts in her mind one 
day as she sorted spoons and napkins, a new idea 
suddenly intruded itself. 

She dropped the napkin she had been folding, 
drew her lips tightly, and sat down to think. 

As she sat, many things that had passed her unob- 
served before, seemed demanding her consideration 
with startling boldness. A dozen fancies of impend- 
ing trouble flashed across her mental retina as a pos- 


34 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


sible solution of the procrastinated wedding came 
to her like a revelation. 

With a set face she finished her dining-room work. 

She felt the necessity of acquainting herself with 
the actual condition of affairs. The reputation of 
her house might be in jeopardy, and yet she shrank 
from the delicate and painful task which every mo- 
ment seemed growing more necessary — and more use- 
less. 

Slowly she ascended the stairs and paced the nar- 
row back hall. 

Twice she passed the door of Mignon's little room, 
then she tapped softly. 

“You will not be here much longer?” she ob- 
served, after entering the room. 

“ A very short while,” Mignon replied. 

“ When are you to be married ? ” 

“ Very soon.” 

“How soon?” 

“ The day has not been decided on.” 

The Widow Brunhaven mused a few seconds, then 
inquired : 

“ Are you sure you will be married at all? ” 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


35 


Mignon looked up quickly. 

“ I have the promise of an honorable man/’ she 
said. 

The Widow Brunhaven rested her face against her 
hand, gathering courage for another question, for 
she was a timid woman. 

“Are you engaged to Mr. Cornelius Mansfield?” 

" I was sure you knew it,” and Mignon twisted the 
pretty ring on her finger. 

The Widow held out her hand. “ Let me see it.” 

Mignon slipped it off and handed it to her land- 
lady, who adjusted her gold-rimmed spectacles and 
looked closely. 

“ Huh! Why didn’t he have his name and a date 
in this?” and she drew a plain ring from her own 
finger and handed it to the girl. 

“ That’s a ring that means something.” 

Mignon examined it and handed it back, then 
looked again in her own. 

“ There is not room for so much in mine,” she 
explained ; “ but it means the same.” 

“ Do you believe it? Do you believe him? ” 

Mignon raised her .eyes to the Widow’s face and 


36 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


said without hesitating, “ Believe him ? I would 
trust him with my life.” 

“ I hope and pray he appreciates your faith. What 
if he should prove false? What would it mean to 
you?” 

The question was quietly put, but the Widow 
Brunhaven glanced at Mignon in a way that meant 
much more than words. 

Mignon met the searching look of her inquisitor 
hut a second, then her eyes dropped, a pink flush 
overspread her face and she raised her hand ap- 
pealingly. 

“ Please, please do not mention such a thing. The 
very thought of it would drive me mad. I should 
put on my hat and go to the deepest hole in the 
river, and he knows I would; but he cannot deceive 
me for — he loves me.” 

There was a note of anguish in the tones that 
pained the heart of the elder woman, hut it also 
proved her worst fears. 

A second time she rested her face in her hand, to 
get courage to continue the interview. Suddenly 
she dropped her hand and straightened up boldly, as 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


37 


if to have the matter over before her heart should 
fail her. 

“ I must talk plainly,” she said. “ The reputation 
of my house is at stake, and you must find another 
place to stay, for you are — you are — a sinner.” 

Mignon laced and unlaced her slender fingers 
convulsively as the Widow spoke. When she had 
finished, the girl fastened her clear eyes on the 
elder woman’s face. 

“ You do not mean that I cannot stay until I am 
married ? ” 

“ Unless your marriage is very soon.” 

“ It will be — I am sure it will be.” 

“ To-morrow? ” 

“ I am afraid not.” 

“ Wednesday? ” 

“ I hope so.” 

“ I will give you a week.” 

Mignon buried her face in her handkerchief and 
sobbed, then she cast it away, and throwing herself 
at the side of the astonished Widow, she clasped her 
hands imploringly. 

“Mrs. Brunhaven, do not call me a sinner! God 


38 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


knows — and he knows, I never meant to be a sin- 
ner! ” 

“ Don’t take on so. Society holds things good or 
ill as they turn out. Compel him to marry you, and 
that at once. Don’t let him put you off. Why 
have you kept all this from me? I have been your 
friend.” 

“ How could I tell you? I have been so sure each 
day that the next I would be his wife, and I will be. 
He has not been able to prevent the delay. I do not 
understand his business, but it will all come right. 

If it does not ” and she pressed her lips and 

shuddered, “ But it will ! ” 

“ It must be inside a week.” 

This was the Widow’s parting message, and Mig- 
non understood what it meant. 

After her landlady had gone, the half-distracted 
girl brought out her pen and wrote. 

Over and over she penned lines and destroyed 
them, for she felt that happiness or woe, life or death, 
hung on them. 

At last, a missive was finished that suited her. 

After reading it several times she slipped it into 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


3U 

an envelope and sealed it with trembling fingers, 
breathing a pathetic prayer over it. 

It was a plea of a loving, trusting woman whose 
trust a man was shattering. When it left her hands 
waves of hope and fear seemed alternately to rush 
over her as she waited for the answer, which she 
hoped would be the man. 

******* 

Five days of the fateful week apportioned by the 
kind-hearted Widow Brunhaven had slipped away 
with no visible signs of a wedding. 

At intervals on the sixth day, the Widow found 
herself stepping to the door now and then and gazing 
down the street as if expecting some one. 

She determined to have the last scene of the 
trying ordeal over early on the morning of the 
seventh day, but her heart failed her, and she con- 
tinued to wait until after dinner. 

If her reputation had not been at stake, she might 
never have been able to nerve herself to the task, but 
reputation is a quickening goad. 

When she finally started up the stairs after din- 


40 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


ner, the postman handed in a letter addressed to Miss 
Mignon Dermot. 

The Widow took this letter to Mignon’s door and 
handed it in, but determined not to leave the upper 
hall until she had seen her boarder on her way to 
other lodgings. 

She paced up and down the hall until, passing 
Mignon’s door, shortly after having handed the letter 
in, she was startled by a half-smothered groan. 

Hastily entering the room, she found her boarder 
as white as marble, gazing wild-eyed at the letter, 
which lay open on her lap. 

“ What does it mean? ” she inquired, despairingly, 
raising her eyes from the paper to the Widow Brun- 
haven’s face. 

“Are you going to faint?” inquired the Widow, 
kindly, stepping to her side. 

“ Ho,” said the girl, resting her head against the 
back of the chair, but her eyelids fluttered suspi- 
ciously. 

The Widow caught up her two hands, clasped 
tightly together, and found them stiff and cold. 

She rubbed her forehead, where perspiration like 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


41 


dew had formed; she chafed her hands briskly and 
was about to call for help when Mignon said faintly, 
“ Do not call anyone. I am all right — only I do not 
understand. What does it mean?” and she pointed 
again to the letter. 

The Widow took it up hurriedly, and read aloud: 
“My Own Little Darling: 

“ I received your letter a few days ago and was 
surprised at its contents. It seems very hard for you 
to trust me. Why is this? You are mine, and it 
shall be my pleasure to see that you never want for 
either love or any material thing to make you happy. 
Believe in me, and be patient, too, for I am going 
to tell you a bit of news that I am afraid will be as 
disappointing to you as it was to me. Urgent inter- 
ests demand that I leave the city immediately. I am 
going out of the state, and am sorry to say I can 
tell with no certainty when I will return, but I am 
afraid it will be much longer than you would like 
or than I can help. If anything should happen be- 
fore I see you again, be a brave little Mignon and do 
not think of the river. That would be foolish. I will 
stand by you always, and what’s the odds if we are 


42 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


not married so soon as we would wish. I can love 
you just the same. I enclose a check for one hundred 
dollars, and will see that you get more when you 
need it. As my movements during the coming 
months are to depend largely on circumstances over 
which I have no control, you need not for the present 
write to me as I should not get the letters. Take 
good care of yourself for my sake, dearest, for I shall 
want to find you at your best when I return, and 
never doubt me, for I would be less appreciative of 
your love than I am if I could for one moment forget 
my own fair Mignon and my many solemn vows to 
her. Goodby, little darling. C.” 

The Widow Brunhaven was silent — she was 
speechless for a time. 

Then she suddenly broke out, “What does it 
mean? Cannot you tell? ” and she glared at the let- 
ter fiercely. 

“It means that you are an outraged and forsaken 
girl! It means that he ought to be hung! ” and she 
picked up her apron string and jerked it wrathfullv, 
as if experiencing the pleasure of hanging him. 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


43 


Then the irate landlady flung the paper on the 
floor. 

Mignon watched it flutter down with large, dry 
eyes. 

“ It cannot be — it cannot have that meaning! ” 

“ But it is so, I tell you, child! What else can it 
mean? ” 

“ Read it again. It must mean something else! ” 
and Mignon reached eagerly for the paper, but her 
hand trembled so she could not read, and she handed 
it to the Widow. 

A second time Mrs. Brunhaven read it carefully, 
pausing here and there to reflect, and shaking her 
head dubiously. 

“ What were his vows? ” she inquired. 

“ He vowed before Almighty God that he would 
marry me.” 

“ Was the day set?” 

“ There have been several times suggested.” 

The Widow Brunhaven mused. 

“ Did he ever write you any letters? ” 

From a little basket near-by Mignon drew a small 


44 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


bunch of letters and handed them to the Widow, 
who opened and looked them over, one by one. 

“ The black-hearted villain! ” she exclaimed when 
the last had been returned to its envelope. 

“ He has been careful enough not to leave his 
name on one of them. He will not come again, and 
it’s my opinion he never intended to.” 

“ Oh, hut he will — he will! God is his wit- 
ness.” 

“ A man who cares nothing for torturing a woman 
whom he can see, cares nothing for offending a God 
he cannot, nor ever will, see.” 

“But how could he deceive me?” and there was 
something so incomprehensible to the girl in the 
thought that the woman did not try to explain it; 
she only said, grimly, “ I don’t know how he’s done 
it, hut he evidently has. There is nothing to do now 
hut hear the shame of your sin, trusting heaven to 
deal him out his retribution.” 

Mignon took a few hard breaths. 

The Widow watched the young girl closely. She 
ground her hands together until the stones in her 
betrothal ring marked her flesh. 


A LONG DRAUGHT OF DREGS. 


45 


Then her eye caught sight of the check lying on 
the table, and a bit of color came into her face. 

She took it up, looked at it, and handed it to the 
Widow Brunhaven. 

“ Will you return this? It is not mine. And now 
I will get ready to go away.” 

Mignon’s lips were white, but her voice was steady, 
and rising, she began to gather up her belongings, 
preparatory to leaving. 

The Widow relented, and began to advise her to 
remain all night; but Mignon was firm. 

There was one way to end the trouble that had 
almost paralyzed her. There was one place to hide 
her shame; one place where she might hide away 
from the world, and that was where the river water 
ran in black circling currents like a whirlpool. 

With a feverish eagerness she left the little room, 
without once looking back. 

It was dusk. No one would stop her ; none would 
inquire. In half an hour it would all be over; she 
would be at rest. 

The lamps had not been lit and the hall was dark, 
yet she stepped softly and rapidly, and on reaching 


46 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


the front door turned the knob cautiously, but just 
as the door opened, steps behind her drew her atten- 
tion, and the Widow Brunhaven, dressed for a walk, 
came to her side. 

“ Poor child! ” she said, “ do you think I have no 
heart? I will take you to a friend.” 

“ I am going to a friend,” Mignon protested. 

“ I will go with you. You are not feeling your 
best, and young girls should not be on the street 
alone.” 

It was in vain that Mignon protested. The Widow 
had not forgotten her threat of the week before, and 
knew she was in no fit frame of mind to care for 
herself. 

So she slipped her arm through Mignon’s, and 
talked as she walked with her, until they suddenly 
halted before the entrance to a plain brick house, 
bearing over its door a sign glowing with the words 
“ The Haven,” and here Mignon was put under 
the sheltering wing of Mother Shephard, who 
guarded unfortunates because she well knew their 
longing for a supposed rest under the sullen river 
waters. 


CHAPTER III. 


DARIAH PLUNKETT, WITNESS. 

A few weeks after fate had, without either his in- 
vitation or connivance, constituted Dariah Plunkett 
a witness, he found himself ill. 

Whether the rheumatism that had infested his 
left leg for years was working its way upward, pre- 
paring for one decisive stroke at his heart, or whether 
the cough in his throat was working itself downward, 
to work fatal havoc with his lungs, he had not deter- 
mined; but in order that the purpose of the disease 
might be thwarted in its evil course, whichever way 
it had been planned, he made certain preparations. 

Dariah Plunkett believed that poultices, cold or 
hot, were good the world over, and the year around. 
Accordingly, he made a flaxseed-meal poultice, which 
weighed about a pound when completed and was as 
slimy as a serpent. This was spread over the region 
of his heart, as a counter attraction when the rheu- 
matism should reach this vital point. 

47 


48 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


As the poultice was somewhat heavy, it was se- 
cured to his undershirt by safety pins which, on ac- 
count of their number, made a sort of a coat of mail 
over the poultice. 

For his cough he took at frequent intervals long 
gulps of a decoction made by steeping fat pine slivers 
in ginger-tea, nine parts something stronger. 

Dariah Plunkett by preference was strictly tem- 
perate, belonging to the Sons of Temperance, and 
would never have thought of using this decoction 
had it not been kindly suggested by Ouijah, and 
prescriptions thus received were not to be lightly set 
aside, even though an occasional splinter did float 
down his throat and stick crossway. 

But, in spite of the poultice and the pine sliver 
cough drops, his ailment showed no signs of leaving 
him. On the contrary, it seemed with every dose of 
fluid and every application of flax porridge to in- 
crease, until he was too ill to leave his bed. 

The slightest motion of his head seemed to arouse 
to fierce activity some host of minute creatures 
peopling his brain, while his nose and eyes were hot, 
and presented a steamed appearance. 


DARI AH PLUNKETT, WITNESS. 


49 


Lying alone in the twilight of a long, restless 
day, a familiar, chuckling rap sounded in an upper 
corner. 

“ Ouijah?” the prostrate man inquired, feebly. 
Three raps. 

“ H-have you found who s-s-stole my s-s-shoes?” 
Two raps. 

“ The f-fool will have them w-wore to a f-frazz! ” 
No remarks. 

“ A message f-for the Widow S-S-Smith? ” 

Two raps. 

“No message. A m-message f-for anybody? ” 

Two raps. 

“ For me? ” 

Three raps. 

“You k-know that I a-am s-s-sick?” 

Three raps. 

“ How g-good of y-you.” 

Three raps. 

“W-will I die?” 

Three raps. 

“ S-s-soon ? ” 


Three raps. 


50 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ M-my race is r-run? 99 

Three raps. 

“ You are advised of t-this by s-s-spirits in high 
c-circles? ” 

Three raps. 

“ Are they 1-looking f-for me? ” 

Three raps. 

“ You k-know who you are t-talking t-to? ” 

Three raps. 

“ I’m P-Plunkett — P-Plunkett, you know?” 

Three raps. 

“ There is n-no h-hope for me? ” 

Two raps. 

“ And m-y r-race is r-run ? 99 

Three raps. 

Dariah gave a long sigh, and dropped back on his 
pillow. 

After lying until he was somewhat rested, he 
slowly crept from the bed, and opening his night- 
shirt, proceeded to unloosen the soggy poultice. 

His hands trembled, and after drawing out the 
last pin, before he could catch it, the slippery bag of 


DARIAH PLUNKETT, WITNESS. 


51 


cold porridge fell through his shirt and struck his 
foot. 

He kicked desperately, then went after the offend- 
ing poultice, and gathering it by the corner, tottered 
to a window, which he opened. “ I d-don’t want 
you found on my cold, dead b-body,” he said, flinging 
it out. 

After this exertion he was somewhat weakened, 
and returning to his bed, took a sleep. 

It was not such a long sleep as he had expected 
to take, for he found himself breathing when morn- 
ing came, but the host of strange creatures still held 
unspeakable orgies in his head, tripping their toes 
incessantly over his sensitive brain ; and his nose and 
eyes were even yet more painfully steamed and 
watery. 

However, as morning came, his intellect cleared 
up a little, and he remembered that if a man would 
wind up his earthly race decently and in order, cer- 
tain preliminaries were necessary. 

Firstly, to do things right, he must make a will. 

He had nothing but a kit of shoemaker’s tools and 


52 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


a cat, but he argued that what he had was good so 
far as it went as if it had been more. x\ccordingly he 
made the will. 

Then, dying men were supposed to unburden 
their bosoms of whatever secrets lay hidden therein, 
and it was this second item that was, in his opin- 
ion, of the more importance on account of the posi- 
tion he held as witness to the oath made in the 
boat. 

To the end of relieving his burdened heart, he 
determined to send for a physician of whom he had 
heard through a friendly washwoman whose child 
this same physician had cured of a fever, refusing 
pay therefor, and Dariah Plunkett mentally calcu- 
lated that such a man would do to trust with his 
important secret. 

Accordingly, he dispatched a neighbor’s boy with 
all haste for Doctor Hernando, and while waiting for 
him to come he watched the one-legged alarm clock 
on a stand near by, wondering as the minutes passed 
if the Doctor would arrive before he lay cold and 
stiff in death. 

When at last he heard the approaching steps of 


DARIAH PLUNKETT, WITNESS. 


53 


the physician, he folded his hands across his breast, 
closed his eyes, and let his breath out in a long, 
melancholy rasp. 

The physician glanced at him, then pressed his 
long fingers against the old brown wrist, after which, 
in as cheerful a tone as if death were not hovering 
immediately over his patient’s head, he told him to 
put out his tongue. 

“ How long will it b-be b-before?” and Dariah 
Plunkett gasped, and looked beseechingly at the 
Doctor. 

“Before what, sir?” 

“ B-before my r-race is r-run? ” 

“ Are you running a race? ” the Doctor inquired, 
gravely. 

Dariah Plunkett opened his red-rimmed eyes 
wider than he had done for three days, and looked at 
the Doctor reproachfully, then said : 

“ I h-have received c-communication f-from the 
s-s-spirit world to t-t-the effect that my r-race is 
n-nearly run.” 

“ I am afraid your spirit adviser does not under- 
stand your case.” 


54 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“Yes, y-yes; the s-s-spirits understand all 
t-things.” 

“ Incorrect diagnosis/’ insisted the Doctor, turn- 
ing to his medicine case. 

Dariah shook his head sadly as he watched the 
physician drop medicine into two glasses. 

“ M-y r-race is nearly r-run. It is f-for this I 
s-s-sent for you,” and the hot water flowed from his 
eyes profusely, in spite of his effort to stay the flood 
with a corner of the sheet. 

The Doctor squinted carefully at the two glasses 
until the last drop had fallen, when he gave them 
each a sudden twist that mixed the contents 
well. 

Then he turned again to his patient, with direc- 
tions as to how it should be taken. 

“You are a man w-ho can h-old a t-tongue?” 
Dariah Plunkett inquired, giving small attention to 
the unimportant matter of directions. 

“ I trust so.” 

“You k-know the v- value of m-marriage?” 

Doctor Hernando closed his medicine case, and 
balanced it carefully on his knee. 


DARIAH PLUNKETT, WITNESS. 


55 


“Marriage is, under certain conditions, a most 
happy institution/’ 

Dariah Plunkett sighed and rolled the coverlet. 
He did not seem to be progressing at all well. 

“ Pm a w-witness,” he presently said, holding his 
lean finger toward the physician’s face. 

“ Indeed?” 

“ I am ; and in v-view of the f-fact that my r-race 
is nearly r-run, it is n-ecessary that I appoint a 
d-deputy before I leave f-for s-s-spirit c-circles. Will 
y-ou, s-s-sir, be that w-witness?” 

Doctor Hernando set his case gently on the floor, 
and leaned back in his chair to await developments. 

“ What is the nature of the occurrence that must 
need a witness in case of your demise?” 

Dariah had up to this time never spoken of his 
secret to any one but the trustworthy Ouijah, and 
he felt that he was about to bequeath a solemn trust. 
He looked carefully around the room, to make sure 
that there was no one in hiding, and then began his 
story in a low-spoken but important manner, his chin 
simply outdoing itself in its mad dance up and down. 

“ The n-night that Joe S-Smith materialized out 


56 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


in S-Sandtown, I come along l-late. Whilst I 
w-was c-crossing over the river w-walk, around the 
bend in Black Hill, I h-heard a w-woman’s voice, 
and 1 1-listened and 1 1-located it. It was in a b-boat, 
in the s-s-shadow. But I p-peeped, and I s-s-saw, 
and Fm a w-witness.” 

“ Was it a murder? ” inquired the Doctor, begin- 
ning to look interested. 

“ You’d a thought it w-was a goin’ to be by the 
w-way s-s-she was a t-talking and a c-crying, and the 
way he s-s-swore.” 

“ What was he swearing about ? ” 

Again Dariah cast from his red eyes a look hard 
to be interpreted. He did not like to be misunder- 
stood, hut added shortly: 

“ He wasn’t a c-cussing. He w-was p-putting his 
hand on a B-Bible and s-s-saying, ‘ s-so help me, 
G-God.’ ” 

“ I see. He was taking an oath.” 

“ That’s it. S-s-she begged him like an angel to 
p-promise, and he s-s-swore, he d-did; and I’m the 
witness, and as g-good a witness as w-was ever put 
on t-this m-mouldy earth, by g-goll! ” 


DARIAH PLUNKETT, WITNESS. 


57 


“ What was this man swearing to do? ” 

“ He was a s-s-swearing to m-marry the girl.” 

“Who were the parties?” 

“ S-she was a v-veery.” 

“A what?” 

“ A veery.” 

“ And what is a veery? ” 

A look of supreme disgust came into Dariah 
Plunkett’s face. 

“ They s-s-stay,” he began to explain, almost exas- 
perated by the physician’s show of ignorance, “ they 
stay in thickets and brambles and hedges, or a-any- 
where else where n-nobody c-can s-s-see them. When 
the s-s-sun goes down t-they s-s-sing tears in your 
eyes and they s-s-sing prayers in your h-heart, till 
even an old b-bell s-sheep will k-keep his* wagging 
head s-s-still to catch the quiver.” 

“ I should have known if you had said ‘ hermit 
thrush.’ ” 

“ S-she’s a veery,” repeated Dariah, decidedly ; and 
his statement was let to go unchallenged. 

“And n-now,” continued Doctor Hernando’s pa- 


58 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


tient, “ I m-must m-make haste to tell y-you the oath, 
s-s-so you’ll know it.” 

"Very well. Who were the parties? — I mean by 
name.” 

“ I don’t k-know their n-names.” 

“ Where do they live? ” 

“ Another t-thing I have n-not f-ound out.” 
“You do not know what their names are, nor 
where they live? ” 

“ I do n-not, s-s-sir.” 

“ What sort of looking persons were they? ” 

“ That’s what I c-could not m-make out.” 

“ Then how, I must ask, do you expect to be of 
any benefit to them — or expect that I shall? ” 

The old man smiled wisely, and seemed turning 
something in his mind. 


“ How would you know them if you should see 
them again? ” 

“ H-her hair was black l-like a hearse feathers 
around a white wax f-face.” 

“ A great many women have black hair.” 

Dariah Plunkett did not appear a bit disconcerted 
by this news. 


DARIAH PLUNKETT, WITNESS. 


59 


“ I h-heard her t-talk, by g-oll. I h-hear her yet, 
I always w-will.” 

“ What did she talk like? ” 

“ Like a veery,” and the old man put so much 
stress in his answer that his physician only held back 
a smile out of respect. 

Dariah allowed his chin full sway for a short time, 
mentally endeavoring to find a vocabulary sufficient 
to describe the voice of a veery, but it was useless. 

He sighed. 

“ Was the man’s hair black, also? ” and there was 
something of hidden amusement in the Doctor’s 
voice. 

“ I c-couldn’t s-s-see his hair. He w-wore a t-tall 
hat.” 

“ Was he a veery, too? ” 

Dariah Plunkett shook his head feebly. 

“ I h-haven’t p-placed him yet,” he said, slowly, 
as if weighing some matter, then added with a touch 
of uneasiness, “You d-don’t s-s-suppose he’s a 
s-s-snake, do you?” 

Doctor Hernando removed his glasses from his 


60 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


nose and poised them on the ball of his thumb. He 
was considering this supposition. 

“ I have no means of telling/’ he said, after a 
pause, “but I should not think a snake would be 
very good company for a veery.” 

“ That’s t-the idea! ” exclaimed the old man, ris- 
ing from his pillow in interest, and apparently well 
pleased at the signs of Doctor Hernando’s returning 
intellect. “ That’s the reason s-s-she needs a witness ; 
having no f-father nor no b-brother, a witness is a 
most important t-thing.” 

“ How do you know she has no father? ” 

“ I had n-news to that effect f-from the s-s-spirit 
world.” 

“ Your informant the same as the one saying your 
race has been run ? ” 

“ The s-s-same.” 

Doctor Hernando smiled. 

“ Will you act as m-my witness? My race is well- 
nigh r-run. I s-s-shall s-s-soon be in s-s-spirit realms, 
and s-s-some folks have not proper respect for 
s-s-spirit witnesses, s-s-so I would leave one in the 
f-flesh.” 


DARI All PLUNKETT, WITNESS. 


61 


“ I see where you are right” 

“ And y-you will act? ” 

“ I have not the least objection.” 

Dariah Plunkett smiled a smile that brought tears 
as he drew from beneath his pillow a folded paper, 
which he handed to the Doctor. 

It was as odd-looking as its maker, and read some- 
what as follows: 

“I, Dariah Plunkett, party of the first part, do 
solemnly swear, so help me God, that I am wit- 
ness, and I do furthermore swear that with my two 
ears I heard the man in the boat, with his tall hat 
and good cigar, swear to the girl in the boat with the 
black hair, that he would marry her, so help him 
God, and I do repeat that I did hear him swear, and 
I do furthermore swear that my race is nearly run, 
and I do furthermore swear that I will soon be cold 
and stiff in death, and I do therefore appoint in my 
place as witness to the oath the man took in the 
boat, Hernando, M. D.” 

This was written with many a flourish and was 
signed by the witness, Dariah Plunkett. 

Pinned to it, with one of the safety-pins that had 


62 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


done poultice duty, was a second paper, reading some- 
what after the model of the first : 

“ I, Hernando, M. D., do swear that I will, 

whenever I get a chance, stand as witness in the shoes 
of Dariah Plunkett, now dead and buried, and that 
I will, at such time as is proper, announce to all con- 
cerned that I am such witness, so appointed by 
original witness, so help me God, who has run his 
race, and I do swear that he did promise to marry 
her, as witness, now dead, did hear him promise when 
he hung over Black Hill sidewalk. 

(Signed) “ Hernando, M. D.” 

“ Is it legal? ” and Dariah waited impatiently for 
Doctor Hernando to look it over. 

Doctor Hernando adjusted his glasses and exam- 
ined the papers critically. 

“ As legal as anything of the sort I have ever 
seen/’ he replied, handing them back. 

“ Keep them/’ Dariah instructed, with a smile of 
satisfaction. “ No t-telling when s-she may need a 
w-witness.” 

“ But do you suppose I will ever hear of them? ” 


DARIAH PLUNKETT, WITNESS. 


03 


“ You’ll s-s-see them. I s-s-should, and you’re a 
p-proxy.” 

“ How do you know you would have seen them ? ” 

“ Ouijah s-s-so informed me.” 

“ I take no risks, then,” and again Doctor Her- 
nando smiled. 

“ Take t-them home; s-s-sign with red ink; 
b-bring them in the evening, s-s-so that with my 
c-closing eyes I may s-s-see that it is legal.” 

Doctor Hernando folded the paper carefully and 
placed it in his inside coat-pocket, and after repeat- 
ing his directions as to medicine he left his patient. 

When he returned in the evening he found him 
somewhat improved. 

“ You are feeling better,” he said, cheerfully. 

“ Fatal f-feeling. It always c-comes to boost a 
man’s hopes before k-knocking him off his legs for 
the 1-last time.” 

“ Think so? Well, I will not change the medicine, 
and I will see you in the morning.” 

“ S-s-stiff and dead. Did you d-discharge my 


1-last request?” 


04 JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 

Doctor Hernando drew from his pocket the paper, 
brilliantly signed with red ink. 

A smile spread over the crooked features of the 
invalid ; then he handed the precious document back. 

“ It’s all r-right. Take g-good care of it.” 

When Doctor Hernando called the next morning 
he was not surprised to find his patient up and 
dressed, and two mornings later Dariah Plunkett was 
pegging away on shoes as if he had never had an 
attack of the grip; but he would not relieve the 
Doctor of the important papers, for, acording to his 
method of reasoning, he had already created a second 
witness, and two witnesses were better than one. 


CHAPTER IV. 


DOCTOR HERNANDO. 

When the years of a man’s life reach the shady 
side of thirty, and he finds himself wifeless, and con- 
sequently homeless, though he inhabit a palace, his 
fellows who are interested in him have a right to 
wonder, at least, what evil cause has thus thwarted 
the more pleasant course of nature. 

Such a man was Doctor Hernando, and such had 
been the inquiries passed among his acquaintance; 
hut no answer had been formulated, save that his 
head and heart were all given to surgical knowledge, 
and his hands to its application, for though the sub- 
ject had been often commented on among his few 
personal friends, none had ever spoken of it to him, 
so it went without saying that he had rather hover 
over a laparotomy case than over the fairest female 
figure in a ballroom; or he had rather dandle the 
surgeon’s knife than the softest white hand of the 

softest white lady in Border City. 

65 


66 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


All this was true of Doctor Hernando, and more. 

Doctor Hernando abominated society, and for this 
reason was seldom known to grace a Border City 
function, although often sought, as a man is apt to 
be who makes a success of his laparotomies and gets 
fees accordingly. 

But there had been a time when society had never 
heard of Doctor Hernando, and it was in those years 
of his adolescence that he formed his opinion of 
society. 

At a susceptible time of his life, one of society’s 
most ardent votaries caused her path to cross his, 
and after the two had tangled and had parted, he 
found that he had foresworn society and the entiie 
female portion of the race. 

If Ben Hernando had been older or younger at 
the time of this meeting with this woman; if he had 
been less awkward, less red-headed, more talkative 
and more active, perhaps he might not have had his 
early and lasting prejudices aroused; but he was 
none of these things. 

His hair was red. 


DOCTOR HERNANDO. 


07 


His face was red, but not of a proper shade to 
match well with his hair. 

He was a bit squint-eyed. 

His arms were too long; his legs corresponded, 
and both arms and legs seemed but temporarily 
joined to his body, leaving one to hope that the actual 
joining would take place before any of the four mem- 
bers worked themselves off and got lost. 

He was not accustomed to female society, properly 
speaking. 

True, he had two sisters some years older than he, 
who talked to him on all occasions, but as their talk 
was mostly advice as to the best method of disposing 
of his legs when sitting, or a request to hold his book 
farther from his nose, or to straighten his tie, he did 
not consider their remarks as characteristic of society. 

For the simple functions of society, as it existed 
in his quiet home town, Ben Hernando had the 
greatest respect, though he rarely attended them, for 
the rosy girls were rather shy and he returned the 
compliment by leaving them to other and more dash- 
ing beaux. 


68 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


But after he had passed the important milestone 
in his life that marked the years of his majority, 
there came to visit one of his rosy acquaintances a 
city cousin, in whose honor a grand party was given, 
which Ben Hernando allowed himself to be persuaded 
to attend. 

The city cousin proved bewitching. 

She was a robust blonde, with her hair puffed in 
the latest fashion. 

Her eyes were of an uncertain bluish cast, and 
winked. 

Her nose was straight, almost to the end, where it 
became deliciously bulbous, just enough to make it 
most charming. 

She had a city way of swinging her skirts when 
she passed through a door, or made ready to take a 
seat. 

She had a fashion of tipping her head slightly 
back and curving the corners of her mouth that en- 
tirely captivated the young gentlemen of the modest 
village, and after her first appearance she had half 
a dozen sworn lovers and as many suspects. 

To her admirers, her age was unknown. 


DOCTOR HERNANDO. 


G9 


By her actions, she was sixteen. 

An older person, on close inspection, would have 
pronounced her twenty. 

She was, in reality, twenty-six. 

Ben Hernando looked upon this woman as he 
had looked upon no other. He was mystified. He 
was captivated by her polished airs, and when she 
condescended to smile on him, to chat with him, he 
forgot himself, for she enchanted him. 

He was not one of the six avowed lovers. He 
was not even a suspect; nevertheless, he was be- 
witched. 

His sisters had some dim idea of this when they 
discovered, that he had gone to call on her, and they 
sadly feared that he would wreck all their hopes for 
his future by an early and hasty marriage, and their 
fears might have been realized had things turned out 
as Ben Hernando hoped they would. 

The city cousin, by name Cora Browne, smiled on 
all the country beaux of the village, but her most 
meaning smiles were saved for the loosely-knit, red- 
headed medical student. 

One night she intimated that a moonlight stroll 


70 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


would be enjoj^able, and while resting in a shaded 
rose garden she said, as she winked her eyes lan- 
guidly and tipped her head back to its proper angle, 
“ You call me Cora. That is but half my name. The 
other half I like better. It is ‘ Myone.’ Call me 
that.” 

“ Myone,” he repeated. “ It is not a name every 
one should speak.” 

“ But you are not every one, and I want to hear 
you say it,” and she waited. 

“ Myone,” he said, mechanically. 

“ You say it so coldly, as if , I thought,” and 

she ended the thought with a deep sigh that smote 
Ben Hernando’s heart violently. 

It was very quiet in the garden. The air was 
heavy and fragrant. The moonlight was soft and 
Cora Browne was bewitching. 

“ Don’t you mean it ? ” she whispered, with some- 
thing like a quiver catching in the words, and then 
she leaned her head against a trellis and looked mel- 
ancholy. 

It was a touching attitude she took, but her pains 


were unnecessary. 


DOCTOR HERNANDO. 


71 


Ben Hernando's heart had reached the place to 
leap the bounds. 

“ Myone,” he whispered, catching her hands, 
“ My one, may I mean it?" and when she assured 
him that he might as much as ever he wanted to, his 
cup of happiness was full to overflowing, and he re- 
peated the name many times with the ecstasy of an 
adoring nun at the shrine of a saint. 

Having already decided that this bewitching 
woman was all he needed to turn the steady-going 
world into one infinite stretch of bliss, Ben Hernando 
proposed, and after being duly shocked at the sud- 
denness of his declaration, and pressing her lace 
handkerchief to her face to hide her blushes, Cora 
Browne promised, and he drew heavily on his small 
bank account to get an engagement ring worthy the 
hand that was to wear it. 

If Ben Hernando had been a man of the world 
he would have taken his bearings and discovered why 
this woman had thus given her hand into his keep- 
ing. 

But he asked no questions. 

He builded a pinnacle in his mind, on the top of 


72 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


which the blonde sat enthroned, and before this he 
worshiped. 

All the chivalry in his quiet nature, and there was 
much, came to the front; all the tenderness, all the 
glory. 

With her delightful modesty he matched a man’s 
integrity. With her purity he balanced his honor, 
and for her soft glances and rippling whispers he 
poured out the wealth of his strong first love, and by 
so much as he did all this, the blonde gauged her 
charms, for to play with men was her amusement. 

Ben Hernando’s sisters also discovered quite soon 
that he was in love. 

His studies, his career, which before had been his 
sole aim in life, seemed now to have fallen into 
second place. 

He was still determined to carry out his plans, for 
his ambitions were set high, but his purpose was for 
love now, not for honor or for wealth, and because 
he was happy they rejoiced with him. 

After many vows of affection and many promises 
of fidelity had been exchanged between them, the 


DOCTOR HERNANDO. 


73 


fair blonde went back to her city home, but Ben 
Hernando knew the old town could never be the same 
again. 

Indeed the world, whichever way he went, would 
be all beautiful, for loving the blonde he loved the 
world; but while he loved well, he did not love 
wisely. 

Letters passed between the medical student and 
his love for a time after he went to college. 

One night he sat up very late writing to her in 
order that she might not be disappointed about re- 
ceiving her letter. 

Returning from the letter box in the morning, he 
seated himself at the breakfast table, his thoughts 
dwelling on “ Myone,” when he heard her name men- 
tioned by a group of students at the other end of the 
room. 

Instantly alert, he saw that they were looking 
over a paper, from which one was reading the an- 
nouncement of the marriage of Cora M. Browne to 
Richard Hadley. 

When they had read this a laugh went up and the 


74 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


crowd condoled with one member who supposed him- 
self to be the man she would some day call her hus- 
band. 

Ben Hernando sat like a man stunned, and when 
the others had left the breakfast-room he picked up 
the paper and took it to his room, where he found 
that they had read correctly. 

The more Ben Hernando reflected on this mar- 
riage notice, the more dumfounded he became. 

He could not comprehend the situation. 

From his desk he took a package of very precious 
letters and read her last. 

It was very sweet, and yet on reading it over, he 
perceived that it was froth. 

After the first shock, he got himself together, and 
having learned, prepared to live. 

He received no more letters from “ Myone.” For 
a time he looked for one, and he also expected the 
ring back, but it never came. It remained with her 
as a trophy; and as to him, she took pleasure in 
after years referring to her little escapade with him 
as if he were one of so many speckled fish she had 
strung on her line some sunny morning. 


DOCTOR HERNANDO. 


75 


After the first keen shock, Ben Hernando found 
that he had suffered a yet greater loss, for while he 
was devoutly thankful that the blonde had proven 
false before she was his wife, he was sorry that he 
had lost faith in society at large and women in gen- 
eral. 

He never went to the length of doubting that 
there are in the world women true to the core, and 
too tender and pure to play with a man’s sacred 
affections and toss them aside like a bauble: he was 
certain there must be women who appreciate a man’s 
strength and honor, as they wish their own to be 
held in value, but he had no desire to search for one 
of these. 

He had tried and failed. 

So he went through college and won honors. 

Then he settled in Border City, where for a time 
he would have starved had it not been for the help 
of his admiring sisters. 

Still he studied. Still he read. Still he toiled 
unceasingly, picking up a patient here and there. 

His rise was slow, but sure, and after a course of 
years he found himself with a fair practice. His 


76 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


surgical cases were winning him some fame. His 
bank account was started at last. His instruments 
were not the most in the city, hut there were none 
better. He had been appointed attending physician 
at a public institution. He had written a series of 
articles for a magazine, and lived in a good suite of 
rooms in the best hotel in the city. He led a busy 
life, yet found time to take a case now and then that 
was sure to pay nothing but thanks, but this was his 
way. 

an 

The heart that he had determined should never be 
wasted on a woman was spread around the city on 
washwomen’s children and old men with jumping 
chins. 

In looks, Ben Hernando had somewhat changed 
during the years. 

As Doctor Hernando, his hair was still red. He 
also wore whiskers, trimmed in the latest and most 
approved fashion. 

These whiskers had had the good grace to come 
in slightly browner than his hair, for which the 
Doctor was devoutly thankful. 

His face was not ruddy. The fire of his youth 


DOCTOR HERNANDO. 


77 


had burned out. Hours of midnight study had 
bleached his face until it looked quite as much like 
a doctor’s face as any other doctor’s did. 

His eyes still squinted, but he wore glasses now, 
rimless glasses suspended by a slender black guard. 

Doctor Hernando despised a guard, but his glasses 
were forever slipping off, and, even with a bank ac- 
count started, a man does not care to buy a pair of 
glasses per week. 

These glasses, when one became acquainted with 
him, served as indicators of Doctor Hernando’s frame 
of mind. When deeply interested or perplexed, the 
glasses were jerked off and balanced on the ball of 
his right thumb until the suspense of the minute was 
over, when they would be carefully set astride his 
nose. Often, before they had been finally adjusted, 
they would slip off and swing a couple or three times 
at the end of the guard before being finally estab- 
lished in front of the squinting eyes. 

It can hardly be said that the arms and legs of 
Doctor Hernando inspired a faith in their stability, 
for as of old, they were too long and too loose ; but a 
first-class tailor helps these unfortunate matters of 


78 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


disproportioned legs and arms, and Doctor Hernando 
was well tailored. 

If he had not been, it is doubtful if society would 
have pressed its claims upon him, though society, 
being uncertain, might have done so. 

******* 

On a night, a few days after Doctor Hernando had 
been called to the bedside of Dariah Plunkett, he 
entered his private sitting-room and dropped into an 
easy chair by a table upon which were a number of 
new magazines and books. 

Taking up one of these, he ran the leaves over 
carelessly. 

Beading of this sort was a pleasure seldom in- 
dulged in by Doctor Hernando on account of a sad 
lack of time, what few moments he found now and 
then being used in devouring scraps of scientific re- 
search and medical lore. 

As the leaves fell under his fingers, he watched 
them flutter until something caught his eye. 

He hastily turned the pages back, and holding the 
magazine to the light, adjusted his eyes to the page, 
and read some verses under title, 


DOCTOR HERNANDO, 


79 


THE VESPERS OF THE VEERY. 

The glory of the setting sun 
Has faded to a lingering flush ; 

Another summer day is done 

And earth broods in the twilight hush. 
Now homeward, men and cattle weary, 
March to the vespers of the veery. 

From tangled nook the notes are heard 
That break upon the evening calm ; 

But hidden is the modest bird 

That floods the air with throbbing psalm — 
A song pathetic — searching — cheery — 

The vespers of the unseen veery. 

The cattle pausing by the way 
Half lift their drowsy, velvet eyes ; 

The last breeze pauses in its play — 

The last light lingers in the skies, 

As far and near, now brave — now eerie 
Is heard the vespers of the veery. 

As throb the bird notes, so my heart 
Throbs to the measure of the lay ; 

It bears me from the world apart, 

It stirs a strange desire to pray, 

It blends wild joy with longing dreary 
The sweet, sad vesper of the veery. 


The name of a distinguished writer at the end of 
this poem assured him that Dariah Plunkett had 
been right in his mention of a veery, but after he had 


80 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


finished reading the lines, but one phrase remained 
in his mind, and that was “ the vespers of the veery.” 

This he repeated several times to himself, then he 
suddenly dropped the magazine and clapped his hand 
against his pocket. 

His glasses fell off and swung until he had taken 
from his pocket a paper. 

With the paper in one hand, he fastened his 
glasses on, adjusted his eyes, and read. 

Then he settled down in his chair in his usual 
stoop-shouldered way and laughed. 

“ A veery, a bird of unknown species, probably a 
snake, a witness, and the proxy of a witness,” and 
again he laughed. 

“ This is important. This must go on file in the 
office to-morrow,” and he stuck it in his hat. 

The next morning, on his way to the office, he 
found himself repeating the phrase, “ vespers of the 
veery.” 

The sight of the paper in his hat had recalled the 
poem, even as the poem had called to his memory the 
curious paper which otherwise might never have been 
put on file in Doctor Hernando’s private desk. 


CHAPTER V. 


A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN. 

Doctor Hernando sat at a table in an upper hall- 
way in the Haven, folding powders. 

Against the wall behind the table rested a bracket 
fitted with medicine shelves. Farther down the hall 
was a case of drawers holding emergency supplies, 
and a clock with a dial the size of a dishpan hung in 
a conspicuous place between the two end windows. 

When he had finished folding the last square 
paper, he pushed the pile aside. 

“ Does your petrified patient show any signs of 
life yet?” he questioned, turning to Mother Shep- 
hard. 

“Not the least. She seems, if possible, to grow 
more cold and dead every day. If it were not that 
she seems to have such a horror of seeing anyone, 
especially you, I should insist on your going in to see 
her. I really am afraid she is in a serious condition. 

Whether her unusual composure is forced or natural, 
81 


82 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


I cannot tell. Once, when she did not know I was 
near, the hard lines slipped away and a smile flitted 
across her face, while a hit of color tinged her cheeks, 
bnt almost immediately the dead white came again. 
One day I found her preparing to go out. She said 
she was going to a friend, but they all say that when 
they are going to the river, so I must watch her 
closely.” 

“Have you learned anything of her previous 
life?” 

“ She shows such a disinclination to talk that I 
question her no more than I must, but she has no 
father nor mother. She has lived with rela- 
tives in the country for some time, but left them 
to try her fortunes in Border City. Her fate is not 
surprising, for she is young in years and very pretty. 
She has wrecked her life by trusting to a fatal limit 
some man.” 

“Do not say man!” and Doctor Hernando gave 
the pile of powder-papers a decided spin across the 
table. 

“ How long has she been here now? ” he inquired, 
forming the papers into a pile again. 


A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN. 


83 


“ Two months.” 

“ And has not created a disturbance in the house, 
or tried to enlist sympathy by having hysterics? 99 

“ You would hardly expect these things of her if 
you had seen her. Really, she is unlike any woman 
we have had here. You will be surprised. By the 
way, she asked me for writing material to-day, and I 
hated to tell her that correspondence was prohibited, 
as it was her first request. She seemed undecided a 
moment, then handed me a paper, which, to my sur- 
prise, was a check for a hundred dollars. This was 
dated a few days before she came here; she explained 
that she had received it by mistake, and had re- 
quested a friend to return it immediately. Either by 
mistake, or intentionally, the friend must have put it 
in the pocket of the hand-bag, where it remained 
until to-day. 

“ The girl seemed to take it to heart because it 
had not been returned, and urged that I send it 
immediately to the one who had made the check.” 

“ Man, I suppose? ” 

“Yes, I suppose so.” 

“ What name? ” 


84 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ Something like Marshall, maybe — I was in a 
hurry at the time, and seeing the name was not 
familiar, put it in my desk. If you will wait a mo- 
ment in the lower hall, I will show it to you.” 

A few moments later. Mother Shephard joined 
Doctor Hernando in the lower hall, with a paper, 
which she handed him. 

He paused in the act of drawing on a second glove, 
and squinted at the bit of paper carefully. 

Then he removed his glasses, and balancing them 
on his thumb, looked at Mother Shephard as if wait- 
ing for a question. 

“ You know him, then? ” 

“ By sight and — reputation.” 

“ What of him? ” 

“ He is the son of his father, and like him, goes 
about seeking what he may devour in the way of 
female honor and virtue — and devouring it. He is 
worshiped by society.” 

“ Is he a married man? ” 

Doctor Hernando had adjusted his glasses to his 
nose, but he lifted them again and looked at his 
questioner a full moment. 


A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN. 


85 


Then he put his glasses on, saying, “ No.” 

Mother Shephard was thoughtful a few seconds 
before she said : “ Our silent patient was no doubt 
brought to her present place by a promise of mar- 
riage. The old, old story of a ring, a vow, and a 
betrayed trust.” 

Doctor Hernando began a second time to put on 
his glove. 

“ Women must either dupe or be duped,” he said, 
sarcastically. “ I am utterly disgusted with them.” 

“ Our patient is very young.” 

“ A baby should be able to see through the veneer- 
ing on such a specimen of the devil’s ingenuity. 
What was her bold attraction? Women of maturer 
years and more discretion are generally preferred by 
the modern profligate.” 

“ She has not impressed me as a person having a 
* bold attraction.’ If natural, her face and form 
would be beautiful and shapely; her voice, with the 
tenseness taken out and its monotone broken, I think 
would be quite musical. As she is, her silent misery 
appeals to me, and knowing what must be before her, 


86 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


I wonder if it would not be an act of kindness if the 
good Lord would let her die.” 

“ She will not die. Her overtaxed nerves may 
give way, though, leaving her a fit inmate for the 
insane asylum, and the charitable board does not pay 
us to make lunatics. No; she will not die. She will 
be all right after a while. How long before her case 
will require my professional services?” 

“ A couple of months, perhaps.” 

“ Give her a few doses of the fever-patient’s tonic. 
If anything serious develops, you can call me,” and 
taking up his medicine-case, Doctor Hernando turned 
toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he 
looked back to say: 

“ Do not forget to send that check out.” 

* sfc * * * He * 

The night on which Doctor Hernando was sum- 
moned to the Haven, some weeks later, to attend 
Mignon, was an uncanny night, even in a place where 
uncanny nights are not infrequent. 

The night wind came screaming in from over the 
lake and struck the undergrowth of pine woods be- 


A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN. 


87 


yond Border City with a force that brought forth a 
long-continued and dismal moan. 

In momentary lulls, the running waves on the 
lake could be heard distinctly pounding against the 
piers and dropping with an angry crash back into the 
boiling surf. 

A half-dozen tugs huddled close to the opposite 
river shore, as if afraid they might be summoned to 
the relief of some passing ship. The few electric 
lights cast their gleam against a darkness so dense 
that it seemed to suck up the rays immediately within 
a few feet. 

Although it was not late when he was summoned, 
Doctor Hernando found the streets almost deserted, 
and after a short walk the outlines of the Haven, as 
they loomed up square and somber, looked indeed 
inviting. 

Arriving at the black front, Doctor Hernando 
gave the bell two rapid twists, upon which it was 
immediately opened by a stout German woman. 

“ Good evening, Mena, how would you like to 
walk to the beach and back' for your health to- 
night? ” 


88 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Mena smiled broadly, and shook her head, while 
she helped the Doctor remove his top-coat. 

After receiving instructions as to where Mother 
Shephard could be found, he turned softly up the 
stairs. 

A light tap at the designated door brought the 
matron of the Haven. 

“Doctor Hernando!” she exclaimed. “We have 
been waiting for you. Come in. Mignon, this is 
Doctor Hernando. He has come to be your friend.” 

Mignon turned her face toward the Doctor and 
bowed slightly, then turned away. 

Doctor Hernando had not seen her before, and 
was not prepared for seeing just the sort of a person 
he found before him. 

After getting his eyes focused exactly right, he 
studied her carefully. 

She was white; when she passed under the over- 
hanging light, she looked like a piece of delicately 
wrought wax work. Her face was not round, as it 
had once been, and pain and scathing disappointment 
had left their traces on it with a touch of harshness 
ill-befitting its natural mould. 


A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN. 


89 


Her black hair was turned back from her face in 
a soft, round roll, and the little, loose curls peeped 
through it here and there ; while it fell behind in two 
long braids below her waist. 

Her hands were small, and the quick eye of the 
physician noted the way in which the thin fingers 
twisted and untwisted, and at times spread them- 
selves on the arm of the chair, only to rest for a 
moment — motions telling of mental as well as physi- 
cal pain. 

After asking a few questions, he left the room, 
and Mother Shephard, having called an attendant, 
followed him. 

“ Has our silent patient been all the time as I find 
her to-night? ” 

“ In what respect? ” 

“ She has no color. Her nerves are dangerously 
near the snapping point.” 

“ She is, of course, more nervous to-night — you 
were in the room — still, she is much the same.” 

“ Her age? ” 

“ She tells me she will celebrate her eighteenth 


birthday in this room.” 


90 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ Will you attend her yourself to-night? ” 

“ I think I shall. I am sorry for her.” 

“ Thank you,” and there was evident relief in 
Doctor Hernando’s voice. 

“ I wish she would scream — even hysterics would 
be better than nothing. Cannot you give her some- 
thing to relax her nerves — something you give chil- 
dren when they have spasms?” 

“ Hot unless she has the spasm. I think the cry- 
ing of the child will relax her nerves and make a 
natural creature of her once again. It is generally 
so.” 

“ She wants to die.” 

“ All women do.” 

“ But her’s is not a notion that has come with the 
pain. It has been premeditated and determined.” 

Doctor Hernando smiled. 

“ What do you think of her? ” Mother Shephard 
inquired, before returning to the room. 

“ You ask too soon.” 

On entering the room, they found Mignon walk- 
ing back and forth. 


A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN. 


91 


She paid no attention to them, only answering 
their questions, until Doctor Hernando said, “ Be 
brave a few hours longer and your troubles will be 
over.” 

Then she stopped near him, and a smile softened 
the corners of her mouth as she lifted her clear grey 
eyes to his face and said : 

“ For you think that I will die. I thank you.” 

Doctor Hernando looked at her a moment, then 
lifted his glasses and said with an air of decision, 
“ No; not that. I shall not let you die.” 

“ You must let me,” and she still kept her sad 
eyes fastened on his face. 

“ But you will have something to live for.” 

“ I want nothing to live for,” and with the words, 
the soft, glad look entirely disappeared and the old 
expression came again. 

A half-moment longer she stood before she re- 
sumed her walk, and Doctor Hernando watched her 
so closely as she walked that not the slightest change 
in her expression nor the most insignificant motion 
of her body escaped him. 


92 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


As the clock ticked the minutes away, she became 
restless, and after crossing and recrossing the room 
several times, she came again to Doctor Hernando. 

“ You know I am in trouble/’ she said slowly, and 
he noticed that with the words a bit of color came 
into her face, “ and I have not one friend in all the 
world. I thought I had, but it was because I be- 
lieved it that I am here to-night — and you are here. 
I have been watched like a child, or I should not be 
here now, making you trouble and only waiting for 
the hours to make such a woman of me as I will be 
to-morrow. I have no thought of living — not a 
thought. You can make it easier for me to die. Let 
me die — be my friend — just for to-night.” And she 
rested her hand on the table at his side. 

Doctor Hernando moved his glasses a hair’s- 
breadth on his nose, and seemed waiting for her to 
say something else. 

“ You are here to keep me alive to a life of shame 
and misery. Will this be kind? Do not do it — let 
me die, and if I ivill not, you are a physician — put 
one drop or two in a spoon ; I will take it and go to 
sleep. This will save me a walk to the river — it will 


A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN. 


93 


be better than the water, for I am afraid of it. Will 
you? ” and there was bitter pleading in her voice. 

“ You do not know what you are asking,” he said, 
opening his medicine case. 

“ I am asking you to be my friend/’ she said, al- 
most beseechingly. 

“ And I will be,” he answered, carefully measuring 
some drops into a glass. 

Then he bade her take a spoonful, and as she did 
so he watched the trembling motion of the spoon, as 
if expecting by this means to read her thoughts. 

Even to the man who had seen much of shamming 
and much of agony* much of the courage and much 
of the cowardice of many women, he looked with a 
degree of astonishment on the fortitude of this young 
girl, who with white lips and fingers knit, bore her 
allotment of mental and physical pain. 

The night wore on. 

The rain came now and then against the window- 
pane in splotches, and rattled and muttered down the 
side of the house. 

The pines beyond the border kept up a tireless 
wailing, and when the lulls came the hollow pound- 


94 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


ing of the lake waves sounded heavy in the dis- 
tance. 

Mignon, who had been sitting in a low chair on 
the opposite side of the room, suddenly gave a half- 
startled moan and rising held out her arms. 

When Mother Shephard and her attendant placed 
her on the bed she was as rigid as the marble she 
looked to be. 

“ Poor thing! ” Mother Shephard exclaimed. 
“ Perhaps she is to have her heart’s desire.” 

Doctor Hernando poured something into a spoon 
and tried to force it between her lips. After three 
ineffectual efforts, he succeeded, and while the 
women rubbed her cold hands he sat closely by and 
watched her face for the first effects of the drug. 

Gradually her hands limbered, her eyelids flut- 
tered, and she looked into the face of the physician 
bending over her. 

“ Are you letting me die? ” she whispered. 

“ Die if you want to,” he answered, reassuringly. 

A smile came across her face, and catching Doctor 
Hernando’s hand, she pressed it feverishly. 

“ Good-by,” she said. “ You are the only friend 


A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN. 


95 


I ever knew.” And then the smile gave place to a 
pallor of sweeping pain. 

The rain drove against the window. 

The storm wailed over the gables and moaned on 
its way, and the natural storm of the elements out- 
side the Haven and the physical storm inside fought 
their way on together until when morning came the 
great blue lake lay ruffled and beating like something 
exhausted, and Mignon had a little child to press 
against her outraged heart. 

Doctor Hernando had been certain that the com- 
ing of the child would warm her heart and dispel the 
unnatural reserve and coldness that had entirely 
taken her, but he, as well as Mother Shephard, was 
doomed to disappointment. 

When the child was held before her eyes she only 
gave it a passing glance, then turned her eyes to 
Mother Shephard reproachfully. 

“ You have kept me here to die another time. 
Why have you?” 

“ Were you fit to die now, dear? ” 

“Am I fit to live?” she questioned, bitterly. 
“ Why do the men T trust deceive me?” 


96 JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 

“ Because you have trusted the wrong men.” 

“ All men are wrong. I trusted one, and this trust 
brought me here. Then I trusted another — he was 
so different — I was sure I might, and he leaves me 
here. They are both alike.” 

Doctor Hernando, who was about to leave the 
room, on hearing his name, listened, and to his sur- 
prise learned that this young woman had judged him 
and consigned him to the collection of specimens 
represented by Cornelius Mansfield. 

This was a little more liberty than he could allow, 
and stepping to the foot of the bed, he turned his 
eyes steadily on her. 

“ And so you choose to count me a deceiver of the 
baser sort? ” 

She turned her eyes in his direction, but made no 
answer, and he continued : “ I thank the Lord for 
this one thing, that you did not die. You shall live 
to learn that there are men who do not deceive 
women to their hurt, and that I am such a man.” 

A full moment she looked into his face, then she 
said decidedly: 


A NIGHT IN THE HAVEN. 


97 


“ I shall never trust a man again-/’ and closing 
her eyes wearily, she turned away. 

“ Do not be hard on her/’ said Mother Shephard 
to him, in the hall. “ She feels in a way toward 
men that you do to her sex. You should he especially 
tolerant.” 

“Tolerant? Yes; hut she must learn to make 


distinctions.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 

From his earliest recollection until he had reached 
the years of his majority, Doctor Hernando’s sisters 
had impressed his mind, by the almost daily repeti- 
tion, that he had a “ contrary worm.” 

This oft-repeated expression he interpreted to 
mean that whenever his authorities decreed posi- 
tively that he should not do a thing, he straightway 
became possessed of a desire to do that same thing, 
and generally carried out his plans. 

The day after becoming acquainted with Mignon, 
unmistakable symptoms of the “ contrary worm ” 
showed themselves again. 

If this friendless young girl had been some society 
queen and had said to him, with an affected drawl 
and a lazy twist of her fan, “ I choose to think, 
Doctor Hernando, that you are, after all, like all 
other men,” he would have replied quite gallantly, 

“ Think as you please”: but that Mignon should 
98 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 


99 


have judged him, should have trusted him for a 
short time, and then should have revised her judg- 
ment and should have consigned him to a place, in 
her opinion, alongside Mansfield, irritated him. 

It was not customary for the attending physician 
at the Haven to make more than two calls on such 
patients as Mignon, but Doctor Hernando determined 
to visit her off and on for a week or ten days, to be 
sure that she got on well and to establish himself in 
her confidence. 

On his way to the Haven the day after the child 
was born, he stopped at a florist’s, determined to 
further his plans by taking a rose or a carnation as 
a peace-offering. 

His first choice fell on flowers snowy white. With- 
out thinking exactly why, he pushed these away. 

His next attempt was crimson roses, but a dim 
recollection of something he had heard a preacher 
repeat about a scarlet woman caused him to drop 
these hurriedly, for he felt that he must make his 
way carefully. 

After fidgeting a bit, he had a spray of violets and 
maiden-hair fern twisted together, and this little 


100 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


bouquet he placed on the table in the hall outside 
Mignon’s room, leaving them for Mother Shephard 
to take in. 

He found his patient as he had left her — white 
and indifferent. 

He spoke to her kindly, and even went so far as 
to look at the baby and say it had a nice head, a 
thing he was rarely guilty of doing. 

But it was no use. 

Beyond merely answering his questions, his pa- 
tient paid no attention to him. 

On leaving the room, he waited outside the door 
to hear what Mignon would say when Mother Shep- 
hard gave her the flowers. 

“ See, Mignon,” she said, “ Doctor Hernando 
brought them to you.” 

A bright light came into the grey eyes and a 
round red spot suddenly mounted each cheek. 

“ I am no longer a child,” she said, clearly ; u I 
am a woman. Tell Doctor Hernando for me that I 
have learned my lesson well. I do not want his 
flowers.” 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 


101 


“ Do not misjudge him. He meant only a kind- 
ness.” 

“ Kindness — and what does a man’s kindness 
mean? ” 

Mother Shephard paused in the act of placing the 
vase on the table and a whiff of the violet perfume 
floated across the bed. 

Mignon turned her eyes quickly to the flowers, 
and made a sudden gesture as if to drive hack a foe. 

“ Take them away! ” she almost screamed. “ The 
scent of them will drive me mad! ” 

Mother Shephard took the flowers back into the 
hallway and held them toward Doctor Hernando, 
who sat hack in his chair twisting his black guard 
nervously. 

“ Take them to the cook,” he said. Then, with 
his glasses swinging at the end of the cord, he went 
back into Mignon’s room. 

When she noticed who stood beside her, a shade 
of annoyance crossed her face, then she closed her 
eyes. 

Doctor Hernando felt that he had set himself a 


102 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


hard task when he determined to force this woman’s 
confidence, and the fact that it promised to be diffi- 
cult hut increased his determination. 

“ Will you he so kind as to tell me,” he inquired, 
after resting his eyes on her steadily a half minute, 
“why you have selected me especially and ranged 
me, in your estimation, among a class of God’s crea- 
tion which is its perpetual disgrace? ” 

“ I have not selected you especially.” 

“ That is begging the question. It is not hard to 
understand why your confidence has been so com- 
pletely shattered, but I assure you, you do me an 
injustice. I am your friend. I am the friend of 
every woman — when she needs a friend.” 

There was no answer to this speech. 

Doctor Hernando adjusted his glasses care- 
fully. 

Then he tried again. 

“I am sorry I have lost your confidence. What 
may I do to regain it? ” 

“You may go away, and never come back,” she 
said, turning her grey eyes full on his face. 

“Very well,” he said shortly. 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 


103 


He contemplated her a moment longer, then held 
out his hand, saying, “Good-by; I will not see you 
again/’ 

A second time she raised her eyes to his. 

They were shining like stars, and the red spots 
marked her cheeks. 

For a few seconds the two measured glances, then 
she slipped her hand under the pillow and turned 
away, but he did not forget the expression of her 
face. 


$$$$$$$ 

As the days went by, the hard lines seemed to be 
cutting deeper and deeper into Mignon’s face. The 
cold, unnatural force that had continually sur- 
rounded her, seemed to be wrapping its folds nearer 
and tighter. 

Even the watchful eye of Mother Shephard could 
detect nothing in her voice or touch that marks the 
loving tenderness of motherhood. In the hands of a 
mighty, cruel fate, she seemed as soulless and as 
passive as a block of marble. 

Once in a while the light glowed for a moment 


104 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


in her eyes with a peculiar brightness, but this soon 
passed, leaving the large eyes heavy and more deeply 
sunken in the white, wax face. 

Mother Shephard tried in every way to win the 
confidence of her patient, hut her efforts so far had 
been ineffectual. The unseen barrier of an outraged 
trust had arisen between the girl and the world. 

But Mother Shephard was wise. She knew that 
outside force would in this case never effect a change, 
so she put up a silent prayer, for she was a praying 
woman, and let her seed drop cautiously, hoping 
that some one seed might find a bit of earthy matter 
in a heart that seemed all stone. 

On the walls of the room several scriptural texts 
had been hung, and one day a sudden exclamation 
from the narrow bed drew the good matron’s atten- 
tion to both them and her patient, for Mignon had 
taken notice of a text which she read aloud : 

“ I have loved you with an everlasting love.” 

For a moment she gazed at it, then turning to 
Mother Shephard, she said, “ You should not have 
such a lie in this place. There is no everlasting love. 
Love is just a perfumed, poisoned mist to blind one. 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 


105 


Love is hollow; it is a bitter, hitter curse. Take it 
away! ” 

“ Do you know what love is, my child? Did you 
never love any one?” and Mother Shephard moved 
softly to the bedside. 

The wild, unpleasant light leaped into Mignon’s 
eyes, and an unnatural tenseness strained her voice 
as she answered, 

“ How can you ask it ? ” 

“ Was it a hollow, cursed thing — your love? ” 

Mignon passed her hand nervously back and forth 
across the coverlet a number of times before answer- 
ing. 

“A cursed thing? yes; but I found it out too 
late. When I thought that love was love, I loved the 
whole wide world — I was happy because the one I 
loved loved me, loved me with an everlasting love. 
Where is it now? Love is a curse.” 

“ Love is the one supreme thing that makes life 
worth living.” 

“ It cannot be. Is the life I am living, and am to 
live, worth living? Love brought me here, here with 
a spoiled name, a heart turned into stone and a brain 


106 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


that burns with a blue flame when I think of what 
was to be and what — is. Take down the card. Love 
seems all lovely, but it carries its hidden sting, which 
is worse than death.” And Mignon shuddered, for 
the river seemed always before her, and the water 
was sluggish and cold. 

“ It is not love, my child, that barbs the sting. 
It is sin, and after it has caused the pain and anguish 
of life, its end is death. Love is sin’s antidote, and 
while human love is often frail and faulty, and while 
human passions of the baser sort are often miscalled 
love, Divine love is truly love, and it is everlasting. 
Love is the only thing that can untangle your path- 
way now, take out the stinging thorns of sin, and 
restore your natural affections.” 

“ I do not want to be natural. Why should I be? 
I fight the first suggestion of it every passing minute. 
I should like to love my little baby, but I will not. I 
should like to hold its tiny hand, for it is mine — I am 
its mother, but I dare not. Why did you not let me 
die? Why did the doctor keep me here when I told 
him he was only keeping me for days of trouble and 
a more troublesome ending?” 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 


107 


“ Would Doctor Hernando have been really kind 
to have let yon go to meet a holy God as yon were 
that night — as yon are now? Some day yon will 
thank him for the desperate fight he made to keep 
you here/’ 

Mignon sighed. 

“ I am not fit to live/’ she said, bitterly. 

“ That is just the trouble, child. When death 
takes ns away, it only carries ns to the door of 
Eternal Life, where we must enter forever. If yon 
are not fit to live in this world for a little time, how 
are yon fit to step into Eternity? God was merciful 
to let yon stay yet longer.” 

A few days after this conversation, while Mother 
Shephard was by the bedside, Mignon looked up and 
said, “ If only my heart were not dead ; but it is 
nothing but a stone. My brain is in a ferment of 
rebellion and wickedness, and yet, Mother Shephard, 
I did not mean to be a sinner. I only meant to be 
happy. It was so restful, so beautiful, to believe that 
between me and the world of which I am afraid, there 
stood some one strong and wise who loved me and 
who would take care of me. I did not mean to be a 


108 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


sinner — but I am; and the blackness and the sting 
of it has poured and rushed upon me until the word 
tf Sinner/ like a brand, seems burning every minute 
of the time against my brain. Some day I will throw 
myself into the waves, where they rock the wildest 
and most mournfully, and there I will rock and rock 
forever/’ 

“ You mean your body will rock.” 

“ Do you think my soul would carry its brand to 
the other world? ” 

“ There is no cleansing power in death. It is 
only the passage-way.” 

“ Then I am branded forever! ” and the girl spoke 
with wild despair. “ 0, Mother Shephard, what shall 
I do?” 

“ Have you not heard, ‘ Though your sins be as 
scarlet they shall be as white as snow: though they 
be red like crimson they shall be like wool ’? for God 
so loved the world — all love.” 

“ God’s love sounds nice to talk of. If I had 
known of it before, long, long ago, I might not have 
been here ; but the world forgives everything but the 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 


109 


sin of being deceived as I have been. If my sin lnid 
been some other, I would pray God to forgive it.” 

There was the tone of despair in her words and a 
spasm of pain crossed her face as she spoke. 

Mother Shephard rested her cool hand on the 
girl’s white forehead. 

“ God knows nothing of special brands of sin. Sin 
is sin. Sin is the transgression of the law. God’s 
holy law you have broken, and it is the burden of this 
sin that brings your sorrow. Unlike the world, God is 
especially merciful and tender to such sinners as you.” 

“ If I only knew that it were so.” 

Mother Shephard left the bedside a moment. 
When she returned she held a book. 

“ Do you want God’s blessed rest, my child ? ’’ she 
said, “ Listen! It is a story of the One of whom the 
Voice said, ‘ This is my beloved Son, hear ye Him.’ 

Mignon turned on her pillow, and rested her eyes 
eagerly on the kind face of the woman by her side. 

“ ‘ And one of the Pharisees desired him that lie 
would eat with him. And he went into the Pharisee’s 
house, and sat down to meat. And, behold, a woman 


110 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that 
Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee’s house, brought an 
alabaster box of ointment, and stood at his feet be- 
hind him, weeping, and began to wash his feet with 
tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, 
and kissed his feet, and anointed them with ointment. 
Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, 
he spake within himself, saying, This man, if he were 
a prophet, would have known who and what manner 
of woman this is that toucheth him : for she is a sin- 
ner. And Jesus answering said unto him, Simon, I 
have somewhat to say unto thee. And he said, Master, 
say on. There was a certain creditor which had two 
debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the 
other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he 
frankly forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, which 
of them will love him most? Simon answered and 
said, I suppose that he to whom he forgave most. And 
he said, Thou has rightly judged. And he turned to 
the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this 
woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me 
no water for my feet; but she hath washed my feet 
with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 


Ill 


Thou gavest me no kiss; but this woman since the 
time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My 
head with oil thou didst not anoint; but this woman 
hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore, I 
say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; 
for she loved much; but to whom little is forgiven, 
the same loveth little. And he said unto her, Thy 
sins are forgiven. And they that sat at meat with 
him began to say within themselves. Who is this that 
forgiveth sins also? And he said to the woman, Thy 
faith hath saved thee ; go in peace/ ” 

Mother Shephard closed the book softly, and 
Mignon watched her with a hungry interest. 

“ Go in peace — go in peace” — she said after a 
short silence, and the words were spoken as one hesi- 
tates who shapes an unknown tongue. 

“ How she must have loved Him — if He were only 
here now ” 

“ He is here now. Our Christ is a risen Savior, 
and as powerful to forgive your sin as He was that 
of this other woman. The consequence of your 
wrongdoing you must bear, but the dark spots on 
your soul may be taken away. Talk to God as you 


112 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


would to a father or a mother, for His love is greater 
than theirs could ever he/’ 

“ Say it for me. Say that I am sorry ” and 

Mignon stopped, for her eyes, long dry, were filling 
with tears. 

Mother Shephard knelt by the bedside and prayed 
aloud, a short, simple prayer. When she had finished 
Mignon was sobbing. 

Mother Shephard stooped and kissed her on the 
forehead, then she left the room. 

When she returned a short time later, the young 
mother had the baby nestled against her heart for 
the first time, and there was a new light in her face, 
something restful and sweet, but so sad that the 
good matron felt herself choking a lump out of her 
throat. 

When she came to the bedside, her patient smiled. 

“ You may say to Doctor Hernando for me that 
if he kept me here I am glad, not that I want to live, 
but it would have been so terrible to spend an eter- 
nity feeling as I have felt for months. How some- 
thing has gone — something has come. What is it? ” 

“ Old-fashioned people might call it c conversion 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 


113 


a more modern generation says ‘ transformation/ 
‘resurrection/ The Book says, ‘I will take their 
stony heart out of their flesh and will give them an 
heart of flesh/ It is the everlasting love, my 
child.” 

“Mother Shephard,” said Mignon, a few days 
later, “ will you write under the motto these other 
words, and underscore the last three, ‘Thy sins are 
forgiven, go in peace ? ? Then when I go away, may 
I take it?” 

* He sj: sfs * Hs * 

A few weeks after the birth of the child, as 
Doctor Hernando was passing through a hallway 
with Mother Shephard, the low notes of a lullaby 
song drew his attention. 

Doctor Hernando had not seen Mignon since she 
had requested him to go away and not come back, 
and Mother Shephard, with a touch of pride, mo- 
tioned him to stop and look in the room. 

Mignon sat with her face turned from them, and 
held the baby in her arms. 

Her soft, black hair was piled loosely upon her 


114 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


head and the tiny curls peeped out around her face 
and neck. 

Twice she turned her head slightly, so that her 
face was visible, and Doctor Hernando focused his 
eyes properly and gazed with admiration. 

“ Do you think she is all to blame, because she is 
not an honored wife and mother, because she is not 
rocking her child beside her own hearthstone instead 
of at the expense of the state ? ” Mother Shephard 
inquired, after leaving the doorway. 

“ No,” replied Doctor Hernando, stoutly. “ It is 
not wholly her fault. It is the fault of society — the 
society woman. This woman is infinitely better than 
the miserable hound who brought her where she is, 
and yet your society lady would feel contaminated 
to so much as touch her dress, while he, the hound, 
they will fawn over and smile upon and cling to be- 
cause he dances well, talks well, and dresses well. 
The thing is an abomination in the sight of the Al- 
mighty.” 

“Men are not in the least to be blamed, I sup- 
pose? ” 

“ Men are. But men are putty, most of them. 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 


115 


Women mould society or are moulded. If every 
woman in Border City who has heard reports impli- 
cating the character of Mansfield would shut her 
door in his face, and tell him why, he would soon be 
wiser and, it is hoped, more decent ; so women mould 
men. This woman here has been caught in the 
powers that mould, instead of being of them, there- 
fore she is moulded.” 

“ I think it hardly fair to consider her moulded 
yet. She is young. She has turned over a new leaf. 
Her life will turn on a new pivot. She may yet live 
a useful and an honorable life.” 

“ She may,” Doctor Hernando assented, skep- 
tically, “but do you know her chances?” and he 
paused for Mother Shephard to reply. 

“ On the street, in the stores, in the elevator, in 
the car, the woman with a fair face and a pitifully 
poor dress is a target for the ungodly eyes of an 
adulterous generation; she must face unspeakable 
dangers, with vast numbers of men to pull her down, 
and an equally vast number of women to hold her 
under foot when once she has made the misstep. 
This sounds like the wail of a pessimist, hut the pity 


116 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


is, it’s true. Our little woman here has not a chance 
in a thousand.” 

“ Listen,” said Mother Shephard, when they had 
passed some distance down the hall. 

Xhe voice was strangely soft and pathetic, and yet 
the tone was clear as a bell, though she seemed sing- 
ing rather to a memory or a dream than to anything 
near. 

Suddenly the phrase, “ the vespers of the veery,” 
came into Doctor Hernando’s mind. 

“What does her voice make you think of?” he 
asked of Mother Shephard. 

Mother Shephard reflected. 

“ Of something calling for a mate, or a woman 
calling for a friend.” 

When Doctor Hernando thought of it, the descrip- 
tion of her faithful witness did Mignon justice, and 
he had never seen Cornelius Mansfield with any other 
than a tall silk hat on. 

Without a doubt this was the veery, and a rather 
pleasant feeling took possession of Doctor Hernando 
when he thought of his important position as sub- 
witness. 


117 


STONE CHANGED TO FLESH. 

“ I w i s h y°u could keep her with you,” he said to 
Mother Shephard, as they passed beyond the range 
of her voice. 

“ But I cannot.” 

“ Throwing such a young and beautiful woman 
on the world unprotected, is like flinging a lamb 
among a pack of wolves.” 

“ The grace of God can protect her from even 
wolves.” 

“ Not when the wolves are society gentlemen, be- 
witchingly soft-speeched, and sweet-smelling with 
carnation bouquets.” 

“ Society would not appreciate your estimate of 
its intentions.” 

“ Society be ” and then he stopped to catch 

his glasses, which slipped off, thus saving himself the 
necessity of apologizing for the use of a word which 
Mother Shephard, being quite religious, might have 
objected to. 


CHAPTER VII. 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 

To return to Mansfield: Cornelius Mansfield was 
not a novice in the art of saying sweet speeches and 
making vows. 

He was so constituted that he could spin them off 
and roll them out in any desired quantity or quality. 

To he sure, he had not made exactly such a vow to 
any other woman as he had to Mignon, because no 
other woman had exacted such a promise, and none 
had trusted him as she had. 

When he was with her an influence seemed to 
hang around him, some dim sense of honor which 
made him uncomfortable, for her helplessness in a 
weak way appealed to him, still the idea of marrying 
her had never once entered his mind, and when her 
importunities began to he wearisome to him he wrote 
a letter enclosing a check as a conscience-easer, and 
then did as cowards have done from time immemorial 
— ran away. 


118 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


119 


He called his sudden departure by a more digni- 
fied name than running away, however. It was a 
business trip, for it happened that about this time it 
became necessary for a member of his firm to cross 
the state boundary to estimate timber. 

After the estimating had been attended to, which, 
by the way, was done by another man, he went a 
few hundred miles farther to visit his grandmother, 
and after her a great-aunt, so that he was for some 
time absent from Border City. 

When he learned upon his arrival home that the 
check had been returned, he was both annoyed and 
pleased. Annoyed as a dog is annoyed when it has 
killed one sheep too many; and pleased because the 
Haven had relieved him of further complications 
with his abandoned sweetheart. 

Therefore Mansfield settled down to life exactly 
as if Mignon Dermot had never come into it to be 
forever undone by its contaminating influence. 

Once in a great while he gave her a passing 
thought and wondered how she was getting along, 
hut he never looked her up; in fact, he would have 
avoided her if necessary during the first few months 





120 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


after his return, being uncertain what she might 


do. 


Thus two years passed. 

During these two years Mignon had struggled 
bravely, keeping time with her fingers to the mock- 
ing “ Song of the Shirt.” 

Her room was bare; her clothing was poor; her 
fare was scanty, and her child small and nervous. 

After leaving the Haven she bought a sewing- 
machine on the installment plan, and when nearly 
the entire amount had been paid she lost it, being 
two weeks behind with the last payment. 

In a sad plight, she went to Mother Shephard for 
advice. 

Mother Shephard told her to call the next day; 
meantime she put the matter before Doctor Her- 
nando. 

“ A good example of modern thrift,” he said, tak- 
ing off his glasses. “ Charge four prices for a thing, 
and then take it back because the last farthing of 
the fourth price is not paid on the jump. Thus we 
juggle with words and call ‘ stealing ’ a sewing ma- 
chine, a ‘ business transaction.’ ” 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


121 


“ I do not see what she is to do. She will not 
put the child in an asylum, and there is little a 
woman can do with a baby/’ 

Doctor Hernando adjusted his glasses. 

Then he pulled out his pocketbook, and handed 
Mother Shephard a bill. 

“ I had about as soon give a woman a pistol as a 
sewing machine, only that her intentions with the 
latter are not suicidal. Will you take the trouble to 
go to that beastly thief who stole her machine, find 
what amount the last farthing of the fourth price is, 
pay it, get a receipt in full, instruct him to take the 
machine back to the lady at once, and to say that in 
looking over his bills he found the machine was paid 
for? Will you do this for her? You know how to 
manage and, Mother Shephard, have the good sense 
not to mention my name for twenty minutes before 
and after you speak of the machine to the lady, else 
you know what the fate of the machine will be.” 

******* 

Only once during the two years did Doctor Her- 
nando see Mignon. 


122 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


This happened when he found her one day at the 
Haven. 

When he heard her talking in the parlor he 
stepped in and bowed cordially. 

She returned his salutation with more dignity 
than was necessary, and then continued her remarks 
to Mother Shephard, and while she talked he listened 
to her voice, meantime studying her through his 
glasses. 

Not the smallest detail of her costume escaped 
him. 

Her dress fitted her shapely figure to perfection, but 
it was plain and sadly the worse for wear. Her shoes 
were cracked, and on the side of one a thin purple 
streak announced a break in the leather. Her hat 
was a rough straw sailor, her veil had seen many 
birthdays and her hands were bare, yet Doctor Her- 
nando was immensely pleased with her costume. 

Her face was beautiful, but with a sad beauty that 
was almost pathetic, and to Doctor Hernando it 
seemed, as he saw her before him, that twice two 
years must have elapsed since he first saw her. 

The child, which was always with her, was a 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


123 


tiny, blue-eyed waif, with clouds of black hair and a 
nervous way of twitching its wiry limbs. 

Besides having the child to care for, Mignon also 
had a large bundle. 

Before she was ready to go, Doctor Hernando had 
made the rounds of the house and was waiting in the 
hall, and as she came out, when he did, he carried 
her bundle to the gate, and then sought to be of 
further service by driving her home. 

“ Your bundle is too heavy/’ he informed her, 
“ and the baby is tired. I have finished my round. 
May I drive you home? ” but he got his answer from 
her eyes before she said, “ Thank you, we had rather 
walk,” and he gave her the bundle without another 
word. 

Some blocks up the street he passed her, toiling 
along with the bundle on one arm and the baby on 
the other; but she did not see him, and she walked 
on slowly, for she was worn with many nights of toil, 
and weak for lack of proper exercise and food. 
Baker’s bread and tea afford an existence, why should 
a seamstress expect more? 

Darkness was gathering, and being afraid of the 


124 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


world, Mignon hastened her lagging steps and finally 
hailed a car. 

She knew that the cost of the ride had been saved 
to buy a pint of milk, but rather than walk the 
remainder of the way she determined to drink her 
tea clear. 

* * * * * * * 

It was on this same night that Cornelius Mans- 
field boarded a car, and had just settled himself to 
look over a paper, when his attention was attracted 
by a child a few seats in front of him who stood on 
its knees and smiled back at him. 

It was a frail, cunning bit of a child, and Mans- 
field shook his paper at it. 

Something in its face puzzled him for a time, 
then he smiled, for he had seen his face too often in 
his dresser mirror not to note the resemblance to it 
there was in the little face of the child. 

From the child, he turned his attention to the 
mother. 

From where he sat he could only see her back, 
but soon a woman came in with a basket, and Mans- 
field obligingly vacated his seat, taking a place on 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIG NON. 


125 


the opposite side, from which position he could ob- 
tain a better view of the woman with the child. 

She w r as poorly clad, from her plain hat to her 
well-fitting dress, and her hands were ungloved, yet 
there was that air about her that marks the lady. 

She wore a spotted veil, which did not hide but 
rather intensified her beauty — the unusual, sad 
beauty of a pale, fair face framed in clustering hair 
as black as midnight. 

Mansfield studied Mignon even as carefully and 
as critically as Doctor Hernando had done. 

He, too, was glad to notice that her dress was 
poor, but he was glad as the wolf is glad when it 
finds the lamb. 

Her old beauty had not gone, but it had changed 
— something had blended with it, something Mans- 
field could not fathom; but he sat and drank in her 
beauty as a thirsty horse drinks water, and a wild 
desire to hear her talk, to see her laugh, to hold her 
hand, took possession of him, and he determined to 
renew his acquaintance with her at any cost. 

Each time the car stopped he watched for the 
woman and the child to get off, and when at last they 


1*26 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


did so, he noticed which way they turned, and when 
he reached the next corner he, too, alighted and hur- 
riedly retraced his steps, following the direction she 
had taken. 

Border City had not yet assumed such magnificent 
proportions that it was possible for one to become 
entirely lost, but Mansfield preferred his discovery 
to be made by person instead of by inquiry. 

It was not many minutes before he came in sight 
of the two, for the woman was tired and the child 
trudged slowly, holding to her skirt. 

After passing off the main street, they shortly 
entered a barnlike old structure, the second story of 
which had been fitted into living rooms. 

Standing opposite, Mansfield soon saw a light 
flicker in one of the front rooms, the curtain was 
drawn by a slender woman, and the watching man, 
after looking back at the house a couple of times, 
turned to the street with a fullness of heart that had 
not been there for months. 

* * * * * * * 

After lighting her lamp and poking up the fire, 
Mignon spread a frugal supper. 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


127 


Her tea nearly choked her, but she forced it down, 
for a long night’s work lay before her. 

The baby fretted and was late getting to sleep, 
but when it was at last quiet she unrolled the bundle 
she had brought home and began, with fingers al- 
most too tired and shaky to hold a needle, and with 
scarcely enough courage to hold back the tears, to 
draw threads and set stitches. 

The future seemed to stretch before her one long 
vista of want and loneliness. 

In all the world there was no one to love her but 
the sleeping child. 

It was for this little one she toiled and prayed, 
for it she longed, and hoped sometimes, for it she 
read the text upon the wall and whispered, “ By the 
grace of God,” as she pressed its little hand between 
her two. 

Sometimes she dreamed of a time that might 
come — when the child had grown older — when things 
would be different, but the cloud of a blighted name 
hung over all her dreams, no matter how framed, 
so she put the dreams away and lived from day to day 
as best she was able. 


128 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


But this night she did not have a moment to 
dream over the child. 

The child’s life, as well as her own, depended on 
her success in getting her work done, for the larder 
was bare. 

All but a few crusts had been eaten for supper. 

The rent was due. 

The coal was gone, and her last five cents had 
been spent for carfare that evening. 

Her fingers flew over the linen in her hands. It 
was for a wealthy woman’s table, and would bring 
her in enough at least to get more bread and tea, 
with some left for the landlord. 

While she bent over her work, a soft knock at the 
door startled her, and before she could rise, a visitor 
had entered. 

This was a gentleman wearing a light top coat 
and a tall silk hat. 

The perfume of violets, mingled with choice cigar 
smoke, floated from him as he moved toward her, 
and Mignon started as one in a dream. 

Indeed, it seemed that she was suddenly awaken- 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


120 


ing from a long, hard dream — that the intervening 
years had not been. 

“ Are you not glad to see me, little girl? ” he in- 
quired, in the old, familiar way. 

Mignon looked into his face a few seconds as if 
through a mist, then a light burst over her face. 

“Glad?” she said, feverishly, “Nobody but God 
knows how glad I am that you have come at last.” 

Mansfield took off his top coat and hat, and placed 
them carefully on the foot of the bed. 

Mignon following his movements with her hungry 
eyes, noticed the soft hair of the baby, and the sight 
brought her suddenly back to her senses. 

The smile left her face as she gathered her work 
from the floor, and when she spoke again there was 
appeal and agony in her voice. 

“But why have you not come before? Can you 
ever know half you have made me suffer? ” 

He drew a chair close to her, settled himself com- 
fortably, and said, “ Force of circumstances has kept 
me. AVe are all toys in the hands of fate, don’t you 
know. But I promised I would come, and here I am. 
Did you think I could ever forget you? ” 


130 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ I was sure once you would be true to me.” 

“ And now? ” 

Mignon fingered the corner of her linen ner- 
vously. 

The first unnatural joy of meeting him had 
quickly gone, and she felt the old, uncertain feeling 
creeping over her. It was more than a feeling now; 
it was a warning. 

“ Cannot you trust me? Do you not love me? I 
swear by everything sacred I have thought of you the 
entire time since you were mine before, and I have 
loved you better than I love myself. Must I woo you 
over? ” 

A trace of a smile came back to Mignon’s face. 
Mansfield’s voice had taken on the peculiar, musical, 
pleading tone that had once been so irresistible to 
her. 

“ Your love is a very strange love; we will let the 
wooing go.” 

“ And you will be mine once more, and no force 
of circumstances known to either heaven or hell shall 
keep me from you.” 

“ If,” Mignon added, immediately, “ the chapel 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


181 


minister marry us to-night. He is at home,” and she 
looked at the clock. 

“ Marry!” and Mansfield gazed at her in amaze- 
ment ; then he laughed comfortably, and said : 

“ Haven’t you got that notion out of your head 
yet?” 

“What notion?” Mignon questioned quickly, a 
touch of apprehension perceptible in her voice. 

“ The notion of marriage. People only marry 
these days who can do no better. Why should we be 
married? ” 

Mignon folded the square of linen carefully and 
placed it on the table. 

Her hands trembled, and for a moment the scanty 
furniture in the room seemed spinning around. 

Mansfield, watching her closely, saw that she was 
trying to steady herself to speak. 

When she looked up, she looked him in the eye. 
The brightness had gone from her face, the sadness 
had settled, but this was the beauty that most be- 
came her. 

“ I am not a child now — I am a woman. I am 


132 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


more, I am a Christian. We must be married to- 
night” 

Again Cornelius Mansfield laughed. 

“ You are the dearest, most puritan little fool I 
ever saw. Tell me truly, did you ever think that I 
intended to marry you ? ” 

A staggering rush of feeling swept over Mignon, 
and she felt that the floods of scalding tears were 
pumping themselves upward toward her hot eyes; but 
a powerful quietness came also, and the tears stayed 
back. 

When she spoke, she did so with a steady voice. 

“ And so you never thought of marrying me? ” 

“Not for a moment, but I am a man of honor. 
I told you I would never forget you, and I swear I 
never have. I promised you that you should never 
want a friend while I remained on this old planet, 
and I swear you never shall. I told you you should 
never want for anything a queen should have, and if 
you have done so it has been because you have not 
spoken. Let us straighten up old scores to-night, 
and begin all over,” and Mansfield carefully drew a 
wallet from his hip pocket and placed it on his knee. 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


133 


Mignon apparently did not notice the motion. 

With her eyes fixed in a penetrating gaze on his 
face, she never wavered, hut seemed reading his 
thoughts. 

“ Marriage is all well enough for a certain sort of 
men,” he proceeded calmly to explain ; “ men who 
have not honor enough to stand by their word and 
need to he bound by a process of law, but I prefer to 
be free, and what’s the odds, anyhow, if matches are 
made in heaven? It is love that constitutes true 
marriage, love, and, before God, I love you as I love 
no other woman, and you — have you forgotten your 
love? Have you outlived it? Was it, after all, only 
a fancy? Am I no more to you, after an absence of 
two short years, than any other man? Tell me, do 
you love me? ” 

“ I have nothing to say to you,” she said, turning 
away from him. 

“ Least said soonest mended. Then let our rela- 
tions begin where they were broken off by the iron 
hand of fate on my part and an iron puritan notion 
on yours.” 

“ If we go at once to the chapel minister.” 


134 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ And if we do not? ” 

Mignon pressed her lips tightly. 

“ Will we waive the ceremony, and live the life ? 99 

“ No. A thousand times no — not by the grace of 
God! ” and the star shone dangerously bright in her 
eyes and the spots glowed on her cheek. 

A tinge of scorn swept Mansfield’s face, as he cast 
his eye around the poorly-furnished room. 

“ Evidently God does not appreciate your notions. 
I will do better. Come with me, and you shall walk 
on a moquette carpet and sit beside a window hung 
with real lace. You shall have your meals sent in 
and a maid to dust your room. You shall be my wife 

by all that’s fair and square, and ” he turned his 

head in the direction of the bed, “ the gypsy baby 
shall wear a gold bracelet and have first place in my 
will. Be sensible now, little girl. You are looking 
thin. I do not think you get enough to eat, and God 
has no desire to have you starve, you are too beauti- 
ful. Red spots become your cheeks. Come here 

” and throwing the wallet carelessly on the table, 

he spread his hand across his knee. 

With his motion something broke loose in the hot- 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


135 


tom of her soul: whether fire or flood or hurricane, 
Mignon knew not, hut it swayed her with the might 
of an unseen force for a few seconds, as a tempest 
plays with a leaf. She felt the hot blood race 
through her veins as if shot from a geyser. She felt 
an unutterable loathing for the man with his soft 
words and depraved desires, and with this there was 
the dying of the last faint hope that she had clung 
to through the years. Her last small thread of trust 
had been tested, and had proved rotten to its finest 
fiber. 

Yet, with these conflicting emotions, there also 
came a feeling of complete mastery, and a strength 
she had never known. 

“ Have you anything more to say? ” she inquired, 
when he had finished. 

He looked at her quickly. There was a calmness 
and a coldness in her voice that amazed Mansfield. 

He seemed puzzled for a moment, and she added 
in the same tone, “ If you have not, please consider 
your call at an end. You are in a woman’s room, 
without her invitation or consent.” 

There was an imperious command in her voice, as 


136 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


she arose from her chair and pointed toward the door, 
and for another moment Mansfield sat spell-hound in 
the presence of the royal blood of womanhood. 

Then he collected himself. 

“ Sit down, dearest! ” he said pleasantly, “ you 
have misunderstood me. Listen to me — sit down/' 
and he threw out his arm as if to draw her to him, 
but she moved aside. 

“ Say what you must,” she commanded. 

“ If you cannot, or do not care to come with me, 
I am sure I may be allowed to come here once in a 
great while to see my gypsy baby. Don’t you know 
she is mine, and that I can take her to-morrow, if I 
choose? • I love you too well to take her from you, 
I only want to visit you. I suppose these visits will 
be conditional, but name the conditions and do not 
keep me in suspense.” 

“ You may come again on one condition.” 

Manfield’s face brightened. “Name it; even to 
the half of my kingdom.” 

“ When you come again, bring a marriage license.” 

“You are mine without a license,” and Mansfield 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


137 


pressed his full lips together and settled back in his 
chair. 

“ I appeal to your honor,” Mignon said. “ Leave 
me.” 

“Honor?” and he laughed. “What does a man 
know of honor when a woman such as you are stands 
within arm’s length of him? Honor is as the small 
dust of the balance. You are mine and the world 
will neither know nor care that you have asked me 
out. It will believe you called me in. Honor? 
When have you looked in a glass, that you do not 
know how beautiful you are? ” 

“ You will not go? ” 

“ I will not.” 

Mignon cast her eye around the room, and 
thought rapidly. 

He had spoken the truth. The world would never 
know that she had asked him out. 

Providence sometimes plays a telling part in such 
small things as the setting of a bed. Mignon thought 
of it afterward. Only a few days before, just for a 
change, she had rearranged the furniture in the room 


138 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


and had put the bed close to the door leading into 
the hall. 

If Mansfield had been between the bed and the 
door, she could not have escaped, and as it was, she 
barely got away; but before he was aware of her 
intentions, Mignon went to the bedside, and snatch- 
ing the sleeping child in her arms, rushed into the 
hall. 

Mansfield sprang to his feet and dashed into the 
darkness after her, but she was gone. 

At the opposite end of the long hall there was a 
small, unfinished room, used as a storeroom. A 
few boxes, bits of carpet, and other litter, had been 
thrown in here, but the door had a strong wooden 
bar which fitted into a groove in the wall, and Mig- 
non knew that it could not be broken without arous- 
ing the whole floor. 

In this little room she took refuge. 

The pale light of the moon filtered through the 
dingy window and gave light enough for her to col- 
lect some bits of carpet and an old overcoat, on 
which she placed the child. 

It half-roused and rubbed its fingers across its 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


139 


mother’s cheek, but she patted it and spoke softly, 
so that it was soon asleep again. Then she removed 
her underskirt, and after wrapping the child, sat 
down on the floor by its side. 

Several times she imagined she heard footfalls 
close outside the door; sometimes she thought they 
were at the other end of the hall, but all was uncer- 
tain, and after the moon had gone down she was sure 
Mansfield must have left the building. 

Then she thought. 

Rapidly times and scenes and voices and promises 
came to her. 

The scent of the violet and cigar, — the touch of 
the gloved hand, — the rocking motion of a boat, — 
the wash of the waves across the distant beach, — the 
whirling water, — the days of hope and fear, — the let- 
ter. As she thought, her aching head grew dizzy and 
she felt herself to be tossing in a seething whirlpool 
of despair. 

Love, defrauded love; lost faith; lost character, 
and at last lost hope, for until this night she had held 
to a faint hope that some time he might come to 
make good his sacred promise. 


140 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Mignon put her hands to her head, and pressed it 
with her whole force; she clasped her hands above 
her head and bore down, for the pain in it seemed 
almost to numb her. She left the child and walked 
in the darkness back and forth across the narrow 
room until she sank again weary and trembling by 
the side of the sleeping little one, and while she sat 
thus, crushed with a fresh sense of her shame and 
loneliness and utter helplessness, the Evil One spoke, 
saying: 

“ Have you bettered your child by fleeing from its 
father? ” 

“ Has it the heritage of a name that might be 
spoiled by living with its father? ” 

“ Have you a right to deny this child the necessi- 
ties of life when its father is willing, nay anxious, 
to give it luxuries? ” 

“ Will you rise in the estimation of the world by 
the step you have taken?” 

“ What will you do if he persists in the course he 
has begun? ” 

“ Who will believe you? ” 

“Who will believe him?” 


MANSFIELD CALLS ON MIGNON. 


141 


“ Where are your friends? ” 

These questions, oft-recurring, changing in form 
and subtlety, beat against her brain with violent 
force, and she found no argument with which to 
meet them. 

In an agony of spirit, she tried to pray. 

She knelt, with her head resting against the dusty 
framework of the eastern window, until the dim grey 
of morning softened the dark sky, but her prayer 
was some unuttered soul-desire, for her lips could 
shape no words. 


CHAPTEP VIII. 


ON AN OLD LOG RAFT. 

When the first red glow of morning showed over 
the chimneys and roofs, Mignon crept out from her 
hiding place and returned to her room. 

She paused at the closed door and listened a mo- 
ment, then she cautiously turned the knob and softly 
entered. 

There was no one in the room. 

With the crying child clinging to her skirt, 
Mignon collected some hits of wood and started a 
fire, then she turned to the table, which she had not 
taken time to clear away the night before. The task 
of preparing breakfast was a hopeless one, for there 
was nothing but a few scraps of bread and some 
warmed-over coffee out of which to make a meal. 

Mechanically she crushed some bread into crumbs, 
dropped them into a cup, and poured some of the 
warmed-over coffee on them. 

This she gave the child, and settling her face in 
142 


ON AN OLD LOG RAFT. 


143 


her hands, she tried to think, for she could not eat 
any of the crusts and tasteless coffee. 

But the child turned away from the cup and cried. 
Mignon sprinkled a bit of sugar on the crumbs and 
coaxed the child, still it turned away and continued 
to whine, casting its eyes pitifully over the bare 
table. 

Again the Evil One whispered in the mother’s 
ear: “Your child is hungry — its father will give it 
bread.” 

With a sharp cry, Mignon pressed her hands to 
her head as if she had been struck, and after sitting 
a moment, she suddenly left the table, and gathering 
up her linen, fell to work with feverish haste, for she 
was depending on this to furnish her next meal. 

More than once the work fell from her hands, 
many times the threads twisted and the pattern 
blurred so that she found it necessary to take out 
stitches. 

Finally she became so confused that she even for- 
got the pattern she would trace, and going to her 
work-basket, was rummaging among the scraps for a 
book, when her hand struck something strange. 


144 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


This she hastily drew out, and as her eyes fell 
upon it, it dropped to the floor as if it had been a 
viper, for it was Cornelius Mansfield’s well-fattened 
wallet. 

For a moment she stood, then closing the door, 
she fastened it securely, when she returned and 
picked up the purse. 

With many a furtive glance, she looked around, as 
she sat down to examine it. 

Then she forgot to look around; she forgot the 
tiresome whining of the hungry child; she forgot 
everything, for she held in her hand a solid roll of 
good, green money. 

She made an effort to count it, but the effort 
wearied her, instead she fondled the roll and 
smoothed it gently, as if it were something alive and 
very tender. 

Suddenly she dropped it, and after letting it rest 
for a moment, she lifted it again and placed it in 
the wallet. 

What should she do with it? 

After turning the matter in her mind, she hid the 
wallet in her bosom and returned to her work. 


ON AN OLD LOG HAFT. 


145 


The child whined on for a time, then having 
eaten bnt a few spoonsful, it climbed down and hung 
around its mother. 

All the morning she worked, at dinner-time she 
did not stop; at two o’clock the linen was done and 
she prepared to carry it home. 

With the bundle on one arm and the child’s hand 
in hers, Mignon started on a long walk to collect the 
pitiful sum she had earned with her tired fingers. 

She had no money, and as one car after another 
sped past her, she thought of the wealth in her bosom 
and the wallet seemed to burn against her heart, and 
she hurried on lest she should be tempted to use it. 

When the child became too tired to trudge farther, 
its mother took it in her arms and toiled on, her 
footsteps lagging and her burden stooping her shoul- 
ders. 

As they passed fruit stalls, the child leaned to- 
ward them, almost upsetting its mother with the 
force of its eagerness to get hold of a banana or an 
orange, and Mignon only managed to get the little 
one past without a scene of wild childish pleading, 
by promising to buy an apple on the way home. 


146 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


After what seemed long drawn-out miles of pain- 
ful travel, Mignon mounted the steps of an Upper 
Terrace mansion and rang the bell. 

She leaned wearily against the door until her ring 
was answered, when she was summoned inside by a 
servant, who took the bundle and disappeared up the 
polished stairway. 

After some moments of waiting, a rustle was 
heard where silken petticoats tipped the stairs, and 
the lady of the house stood before Mignon. 

Her face was not pleasant, and the delicate linen 
hung carelessly over her hand. 

“ The work is not altogether satisfactory,” she 
said, scrutinizing it carefully. 

“ I made a mistake last night, for I was very tired, 
but I took it out and did it over.” 

“ Still it shows a false stitch or two.” 

Mignon sighed. 

“ I think,” said the lady, thoughtfully, “ that you 
should throw off a part of the regular price on ac- 
count of the mis-set stitches,” and she rested her eyes 
on Mignon’s face. 

Mignon felt harsh, bitter feelings in her heart as 


ON AN OLD LOG RAFT. 


147 


she cast her eye around the elegantly furnished hall- 
way, the lady’s rich morning dress, then at her own 
shabby skirt and the pinched face of the blue-eyed 
baby, but she only said meekly, almost beseeehingty, 
“ There is so much work on it.” 

“ I know,” said the lady, “ still when one pays for 
work one expects to get it. I think it is right that I 
should deduct at least a third of the price. It will 
really be good for you. You will be more careful an- 
other time. Mary ” she called, “ bring me my 

purse.” 

Almost immediately a girl in a cap came softly 
down the stairs, and handed the lady a purse, which 
she opened. 

She took out several bills, and a look of annoyance 
crossed her face. 

“ Can you change a five?” she inquired of Mig- 
non, knowing before she asked that she could 
not. 

“ I am sorry,” she said, apologetically, replacing 
the bills, “ but I have not got the change this morn- 
ing. You will have to come again.” 

Mignon did not move. Red spots came into her 


148 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


cheeks, and she stood looking at the lady in bewilder- 
ment. 

“What shall I do!” she at last found words to 
say. “ I was depending on this.” 

“ I suppose so,” the lady answered, coldly. “ Come 
back to-morrow,” and she stepped toward the door. 

Mignon caught the child by the hand and fol- 
lowed. 

When the door had swung shut, she caught her 
breath and stepped as rapidly as she felt able, for 
fear the lady might order her away. 

As she went the earth seemed to move before her. 
Fences twisted like snakes. Houses danced and even 
the path she trod seemed moving up and down under- 
neath her feet. 

When they again came to the fruit stands, the 
child leaned toward them and begged in a baby’s way 
for something to eat. With a struggle Mignon 
passed the fruit, but at a baker’s window the child 
again cried, this time for a cake, and as it repeated 
over and over, “ Hungry, mamma, hungry,” Mignon 
again heard the Evil One whisper: 

“The child will starve; its father will give it 


ON AN OLD LOG RAFT. 


149 


bread/’ and again the wallet within hand’s reach 
seemed burning like fire, as she pulled the child 
roughly past a cake-shop and hurried on. 

When she came to the turn in the road where the 
w r ay led to her home, she hesitated, then she turned 
her face toward the winding way that led around 
Black Hill over the river, for the water seemed call- 
ing her, and for once she was not afraid of it, so that 
the more it called the faster her feet moved toward it. 

The child stopped begging for a cake, realizing 
in its baby-way that something unusual was taking 
place. 

Mignon’s first sight of the river was where it 
showed through the branches of the trees, and its 
shimmer seemed inviting. Its hollow gurgle sounded 
on the still air and she hurried toward it, looking 
meantime for the black hole where the water eddied 
lazily and still. 

This especial spot she could not see, on coming 
out at the end of the walk, for over it lay an old log 
raft. 

The logs were brown and heavy-looking, and the 
dull water fitted into each crack and chink, as if the 


150 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


raft had grown on the breast of the river. One 
end of the raft was securely fastened to a place 
where the bank sloped gently; the other end lay far 
out in the stream. 

Without a glance to see if she were watched, 
Mignon hurried out on the raft. Under her sudden 
weight it heaved and stirred itself like a half-aroused, 
lazy beast, then settled slowly. 

The deep, still water rippled away from the brown 
ends of the logs and washed over them in returning, 
but Mignon did not see the ripples, she only saw the 
water — still and dark and deep, and the notion that 
underneath it there must be rest had driven every 
other thought from her troubled mind. 

As she neared the edge, she clasped the baby, who 
was now clinging tightly to her neck, and when quite 
near the edge of the raft, she paused for a final look 
at the world that she was trying to escape from. 

While she paused, suddenly another voice than the 
voice of the Evil One spoke, saying in the stillness, 
“ I have loved thee with an everlasting love.” 

As if she had been struck, Mignon staggered back 
from the edge of the raft. 


ON AN OLD LOG RAFT. 


151 


Beneath her feet it see-sawed, while the child 
clasped her neck tighter and laughed merrily as she 
looked around to see who had spoken. 

* * * * * * * 

While Mignon had been setting the last stitches 
in her linen-work, one of the mill-hands in Sandtown 
had been breaking his leg, and about the time she 
set out for Upper Terrace, Doctor Hernando was 
making his way hurriedly to the bedside of the 
newly-made cripple. 

Leaving Sandtown after the bone had been neatly 
set, he drove slowly, so that the breeze might get the 
iodoform out of his whiskers, and when he came to 
the road winding around Black Hill he drove still 
more slowly, for his squinting eye had caught sight 
of a woman’s figure, apparently out in the river, and 
he wondered what it meant. 

On driving closer, he discovered that she was on 
a raft, and he hurried, for though this was not the 
popular place for suiciding, still the solitary woman 
might be contemplating something of the sort. 

Keeping his eyes well focused, he drove nearer. 


152 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


The woman’s dress blew thinly in the rising lake 
wind. Her face he could not see, for she held in her 
arms a child whose black hair floated against the 
wind from under a red cap. 

Suddenly, Doctor Hernando gave his horse a 
smart touch with the whip, and almost the next 
minute he had jumped from the carriage and was 
hurrying toward the raft, for he had recognized the 
woman. 

While Mignon yet stood motionless, suddenly a 
long arm was thrown around her and some one was 
pulling her roughly back toward the shore. 

Turning with an alarmed cry, she found herself 
in the tight grasp of Doctor Hernando. 

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, al- 
most angrily. 

His answer was a hysterical utterance, whether 
intended for cry or laugh, he could not tell, and she 
said, “ I do not know.” 

Doctor Hernando wondered, because she let him 
draw her away from the water without resistance. 

When they were safe on shore, he stopped under 
a tree. 


ON AN OLD LOG RAFT. 


153 


“ Will you go home now?” he said, in the same 
half-angry, half-reproving manner. 

The little child slipped onto the ground, and Mig- 
non leaned wearily against a tree. 

“ If I can,” she said, faintly. 

“ Are you ill?” and Doctor Hernando adjusted 
his glasses, which had dropped off in the excitement 
of the moment. 

“ IDs my head,” she explained. 

Doctor Hernando studied her closely a few sec- 
onds. Then he knew that the flush in her face was 
not the flush that the wind brings. 

Hastily removing his glove, he took her hand in 
his, and pressed his long, cool fingers against her 
wrist. 

“ I have been vexed, forgive my manner,” he said, 
in a changed tone, “ and let me take care of you,” 
and taking the child in his arms, he led the way to 
his carriage, not wondering now why Mignon seemed 
so strange, and ready to obey him. 

When they came to the bend in the road where 
the way led to her home, Mignon watched for him to 
turn out, but when he did not, she asked no ques- 


154 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


tions, and when her eye presently caught the glitter 
of a gilt sign, she knew that she was again at the 
Haven. 

“ I have brought you a nice case this time/’ Doc- 
tor Hernando said to Mother Shephard, when Mig- 
non had been put to bed and the baby had been 
given a bowl of bread and milk. 

Anticipating a serious illness, Mother Shephard 
sent a messenger to Mignon’s home for some cloth- 
ing, and Doctor Hernando had taken her there; this 
was how it happened that he stood for a moment in 
the little, bare room and looked at the table with its 
few uneaten crusts, and came to believe that some- 
times, even in a great land rolling in prosperity, 
some people suffer. 

While Doctor Hernando was gone, Mignon gave 
the wallet of money to Mother Shephard, telling her 
the circumstances under which she came by it, and 
asking her to return it. She also expressed a wish 
to see Doctor Hernando. 

Mother Shephard was somewhat exercised about 
the wallet, and as soon as Doctor Hernando returned 
she called him into the parlor, closed the door and 


ON AN OLD LOG RAFT. 


155 


expressed her views of Mansfield freely, as she told 
of the occurrence. 

Doctor Hernando looked at the wallet as it lay 
on the corner of the table, then he opened it and 
counted the money. 

“ One hundred and eighty-five dollars,” he said. 
“ I have never called myself strictly orthodox, hut 
now I believe there is a hell. Doesn’t the devil 
understand his cunning? The idea of giving a half- 
starved mortal a wad of bills like this! ” 

“ I am glad you are getting orthodox. Now that 
hell is established, heaven will follow as a neces- 
sity.” 

“ To be sure, and any woman who for honor’s 
sake lives on crusts when she might have one hun- 
dred and eighty-five dollars’ worth of milk and honey 
will have a reserved seat; and she may have it right 
soon.” 

“ Do you really think it will be brain fever? ” and 
there was a note of anxiety in Mother Shephard’s 
voice. 

“ Will be? It already is.” 

Then he pointed to the wallet. 


150 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ Unless you are particularly desirous of return- 
ing that (I should like to designate it) money, let me 
have the job.” 

“You are more than welcome,” and with Mother 
Shephard’s permission, Doctor Hernando pocketed 
the wallet, and then went to Mignon. 

Her face was rosy, and she rocked her head untir- 
ingly against the pillow, pressing her temples at times. 

Her eyes were bright, but Doctor Hernando had 
stood for some minutes beside her before she seemed 
to notice him. 

“ Am I sick? ” she then inquired. 

“ You have a little fever.” 

“ Will you let me die this time? ” 

“ Do you want to die? ” he inquired, kindly. 

She did not answer him, but after changing her 
head position several times, said, “ My head, my 
head; it aches so.” 

“ Yes,” he said, soothingly. “ It will be better 
to-morrow.” 

Again there was a restless pause, after which she 
said, “ Before I forget, 1 want to say — I want you to 


ON AN OLD LOG RAFT. 


157 


know — if I had been going to throw myself in the 
water, I should have done so long before you came. 
It is wicked to drown one’s self.” 

She closed her eyes, but she did not rest, and in a 
moment they flew open again. 

“ Don’t think I’m wicked, if you can help it,” she 
said, as if asking a favor. 

He made no answer, but pressed his fingers against 
her temple, and under his touch she was quiet a few 
seconds before she turned away with a groan. 

As Doctor Hernando was leaving the room, he 
caught snatches of mother-talk and exclamations 
that confirmed his gravest fears. 

When he came the second day, she did not know 
him, and at times the flashing light in her eye died 
away to a dull, blank stare, while she talked almost 
incessantly, telling many things she had not wished 
known, and sometimes crying. 

The third day it was found necessary to cut off 
her soft, black hair. 

“ Are you a good barber? ” Mother Shephard in- 
quired, holding the shears toward Doctor Hernando. 


158 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


He took them, and steadying Mignon’s restless 
forehead with one hand, began his task. 

The shining blades gleamed through her black 
hair and he hesitated, then they snapped relentlessly, 
and Mother Shephard lifted the dark hair and piled 
it on a towel until the towel was full and Mignon’s 
head was like a child’s. 

But even with her hot hair gone, and ice always 
around her head, Mignon continued to drift away 
before the force of the disease in a way to dampen 
all Doctor Hernando’s professional ardor, and the 
night when he was certain the turning point must 
be reached, he returned to the Haven about nine 
o’clock, and took his place at his patient’s bedside. 

Mignon had grown calmer during the day, and 
now breathed so softly that at times none but an 
experienced eye could tell there was breath left in her 
body. 

When the clock struck twelve, Doctor Hernando 
sat by the bedside, and Mother Shephard said softly, 
“ Doctor Hernando, it is midnight.” 

“ Yes,” he said, absently, “ I will go presently.” 

Then they sat, exchanging a few quiet remarks, 


ON AN OLD LOG HAFT. 


159 


giving Mignon her doses and bathing her head, 
until the solitary hour of one chimed down the hall, 
when Mother Shephard said, “ Doctor Hernando, it 
is one o’clock/’ and he answered her absently, as be- 
fore, “ Yes, I will go presently.” 

When another hour had gone, Mother Shephard 
said, “ Doctor Hernando, it is two o’clock,” and he 
answered the third time, “ Yes, I will go presently.” 

When the clock in the long hall struck three, lest 
he might not have heard it, Mother Shephard said, 
“ Doctor Hernando, the clock strikes three,” and 
after quite a pause, he said, “ Yes, I will go pres- 
ently.” 

Then Mother Shephard smiled, and knew how 
fruitless would be any further suggestions, still when 
the clock announced that the night was almost gone, 
she said again, “ Doctor Hernando, the clock strikes 
four; you have been up all night.” 

This time he did not answer her. 

He rose from his chair, and adjusting his glasses, 
bent low over his patient. 

He took her hand in his, and held it while his 
fingers touched her wrist. 


160 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Then Mother Shephard came to his side, and in 
the stillness the hall clock could be heard ticking 
away the minutes. 

Lower and lower they bent over their patient, as 
if to catch her faint heart-beats against their ears. 

Then Doctor Hernando suddenly loosened the 
hand he had been holding, and straightened up. 

“ Did I understand you to say it is four? ” he said, 
softly, turning to Mother Shephard. 

She looked at him, and stepping to the door, 
glanced at the hall clock. 

“ Half-past,” she answered. 

“ I will go now,” and Mother Shephard knew that 
the crisis had been passed and that Mignon would 
get well, for her physician smiled, and doctors rarely 
smile when a patient dies. 

The next time he saw her, Mignon was sleeping 
naturally, with her hand under her cheek. 

With her short hair and her frail face, she looked 
more like a child than a woman, and Mother Shep- 
hard and Doctor Hernando stood for a moment in 
the door and watched the gentle rise and fall of the 
sheet drawn over her breast. 


ON AN OLD LOG RAFT. 


1G1 


“ Poor little thing! ” said Mother Shephard. 
“ How can men be so cruel?” 

“ Until we can agree as to the meaning of the 
word ‘ man/ a discussion of your question will be 
useless,” and the emphasis of Doctor Hernando's 
answer caused Mother Shephard to smile. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 

Mignon was for some time a patient at the Haven. 

Her strength had long been overtaxed by days and 
nights of toil, and it was weeks before her pale face 
took on a healthy color and her sad eyes a glance of 
healthy light. 

During this time Mother Shephard was very kind, 
and the child was delighted with its new surround- 
ings, for it got plenty to eat, which was something 
altogether new, but so profitable that its face filled 
out and it whined no more. 

Doctor Hernando was attentive to his patient, 
and on several occasions tried to show a friend’s in- 
terest in Mignon, but every attempt in this line was 
turned aside with a quiet dignity, for she gave him 
to understand that while she appreciated his pro- 
fessional interest, any other was out of the question. 

She found fresh flowers in her room when her 

mind returned, and these were kept around, but no 
162 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


163 


one ever said they were for her, nor where they came 
from, and she never asked. 

As she grew stronger, she began again to think of 
returning to her room, and long before she was in a 
condition to go to work, she made the announcement 
that she was going away. 

When Doctor Hernando had been informed of his 
patient's intentions, he was displeased, and deter- 
mined to have an interview with her. 

He found Mignon sitting in a wide window-seat. 
She wore a loose dress and her short hair curled up on 
the end like a child's. 

Doctor Hernando crossed the room, and taking 
his position on one side of the square bay-window, he 
fixed his eyes on her. 

After a few seconds' steady squinting, he removed 
his glasses, and said: 

“ Mother Shephard informs me that you contem- 
plate leaving this place in a few days." 

There was something in Doctor Hernando's atti- 
tude conveying the impression of untiring persist- 
ency, and the tone of his voice aroused the suspicion 
in Mignon's mind that he had some objection to this 


164 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


course of procedure, and she determined to have the 
matter understood once for all, without further 
words, so she said, resolutely: 

“ Yes.” 

“ Why? ” 

“ I must.” 

“ Why must you? ” 

There was a note of discord in her voice, when 
she answered him : 

“ Doctor Hernando, you know that I must earn 
my bread.” 

“ What’s the matter with the bread you get here ? 
I have suspected that you are as comfortable here as 
you will he away from here.” 

“ The state provides comforts for sick folks. 
When they are able to work, no decent one of them 
will stay a moment to tax the charity of the com- 
munity.” 

“ The state also furnishes a physician to say when 
the patients in its care are and are not able to leave. 
As a rule, my patients have the courtesy to wait for 
a dismissal before they leave my care.” 

Mignon’s face colored slightly. 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


165 


“ Doctor Hernando,” she said quickly, looking 
into his face, “ I beg your pardon, if I have seemed 
discourteous. I have not meant to he, believe me. I 
feel that to remain here longer would be presuming 
on the already overtaxed generosity of both yourself 
and Mother Shephard. I shall go away; but be sure 
I thank you for your kindness.” 

“ You owe me no thanks,” he said, dropping his 
glasses and leaving them to swing for a minute. 

Again Mignon’s face took on the delicate tinge of 
color but half a blush. 

“ I understand that in a way I do not owe you 
any thanks; for your professional services you are 
paid by the city; but it was not for this alone I in- 
tended to thank you. I meant ” and she hesi- 

tated. 

Doctor Hernando still stood in the position he had 
first taken, leaning against the window, at the end 
of the low seat. 

She knew that he was studying her, but she con- 
tinued : 

“ I meant to thank you for keeping me from the 
water the day you found me on the raft. It is true, 


166 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


when I went there I intended to fall in and let the 
water forever shut out the sight of the world, hut a 
Voice stopped my feet, and instead of throwing my- 
self in, I drew hack. Yet I could move no farther. 
The world was spinning at such a rate I should have 
fallen in, and from this you saved me. Life is hard, 
it will always be, I suppose, but as I have made it so 
myself, I will not complain; at any rate, I must not 
die until God’s time.” 

Doctor Hernando adjusted his glasses. 

Mignon, without looking at him, caught the quick 
motion of his hand, and wondered what he was about 
to say. 

“ Will you be so kind as to look at me? ” 

Mignon hesitated, then turned her face toward 
him. 

“ Thank you,” he said. 

“ I have had a number of patients in my day. 
Some of these have understood me, some have not; 
some of them I have understood, some I have not 
wanted to; hut of them all, I find in you the first 
one who has so far misunderstood me as to seriously 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


167 


irritate my composure, for I may as well say to you 
that my right to the title of ‘ man ’ is broken into a 
thousand fragments, if your intimation of my char- 
acter he right or just. I should like to be under- 
stood, and to this end I shall insist on knowing 
whether you are sincere when you say to me that you 
think I am so little of a man, that I have so super- 
ficial knowledge of the ethics of common decency, 
that I have so far forgotten an honorable man’s mem- 
ory of a mother or a sister, as to stand before you, 
and call to your attention the matter of pay for my 
professional services? What do you mean?” 

“ Doctor Hernando, I have already said to you 
that if I have seemed discourteous it was uninten- 
tional, I beg your pardon. I thank you for your un- 
usual kindness to me, hut that does not change the 
fact that my hills here are paid by the state.” 

Doctor Hernando jerked his glasses off, and his. 
squinting steadied itself into a comparatively steady 
frown. 

“ That is not the question,” he replied. “ The 
question is, ‘ Do you or do you not think I would 
outrage or insult a woman’s tender feelings — or add 


168 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


to her pain by so much as a feather’s weight? * This 
is the question.” 

Mignon hesitated before saying, “ I do not know 
how to talk to you. I have already said I thank 
you.” 

“ When a man has nothing in the world but his 
profession and his own good name to be personally 
interested in, it is a sorry consolation to find his 
motives misconstrued and his words always misunder- 
stood, even though thanked profusely. You can say 
to me whether or not you have any confidence in 
me.” 

“ I was very ill, I am well now ; certainly I have 
confidence in you.” 

“ I am speaking now as a man, not as a physician.” 

“ I am not acquainted with you as a man.” 

There was a moment of silence, during which Dr. 
Hernando twisted his glasses slowly around the ball 
of his thumb. 

“ Then perhaps you may suggest some method by 
which I may be able to gain your confidence, for I 
am determined to have you understand that while 
there are men who are by every right entitled to your 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


169 


severest judgment and most unqualified condemna- 
tion, I am not one of them. I am your friend.” 

“ If you are, you readily understand that I can- 
not accept a man’s friendship. If you are truly a 
friend, you will say nothing of a friendship — think 
nothing of it.” 

“ I suppose that means that if I should meet you 
to-morrow in the market-place, or in the park, and 
should lift my hat to you, you would be offended.” 

“ You will not meet me in the park,” and Mignon 
spoke with a smile on her face in which there was 
more pathos than sunshine. 

“ You understand that you are not yet dismissed 
from my care, nor from this institution.” 

“ I think I do not need your services any longer,” 
she said, quietly. 

“ You mean you do not want them,” and she did 
not dispute him. 

“ Very well. I will respect your wishes, for you 
are out of danger now, if you take care of yourself, 
and your confidence in humanity must be restored. 
Good-by,” and he extended his hand. 

Mignon had partly turned away from Doctor Her- 


170 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


nando; still she saw that he held out his hand, and 
he knew this. 

“ Good-by, Doctor Hernando,” she said politely, 
but she held her clasped hands in her lap. 

sjc * sjs ❖ % 

“ Mother Shephard,” Doctor Hernando said, be- 
fore he left the Haven, “ it’s no use to try keeping 
her here. She was never cut out to be a charity pa- 
tient. Let her go, and lest I should hurry her de- 
parture, I have considerately agreed not to see her 
again, for I am one of the species she cannot toler- 
ate.” 

“ She is very thankful to you.” 

“ Thanks get intolerably stale and depressing 
sometimes. Confidence in some cases is better.” 

“ Confidence must grow. Her confidence in all 
mankind has been nipped in the bud.” 

“ And nipped pretty close ; but what shall be done 
about her? If she goes home and works as she has 
done, she Avill be back here in a week, and her last 
condition will be worse than her first. There should 
be a fund appropriated by the state for half-dead 
working-women.” 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


1.71 


“ The state does well to take what care it does of 
them. Some rich old man should make an endow- 
ment/’ 

Doctor Hernando laughed. 

“ My riches are limited, hut not my years. Per- 
haps I can bring your pleasant dream to pass, in the 
present case; so 1 hereby endow a fund, it does not 
matter how much, but mention it to our patient, and 
tell her to draw on it if worse comes to worst. Be 
wise in your words. Tell her a man of some years, 
without family, believing that the whole social and 
industrial system is wrong and discriminates against 
women, has bequeathed a fund for the use of such 
women as have been inmates of the Haven, have 
proven their right to help by their lives, and who are 
in need. You know how to fix it up.” 

“ Is this fund for the exclusive use of any one 
woman? ” 

“ No; help as many as you can with the allowance 
I will mention to you to-morrow, but be careful what 
you say to the one we are speaking of, and for her 
peace of mind and my honor, do not mention my 


name. 


172 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


This was how it happened that Mignon came to 
depend on the Working Woman’s Fund, and every 
time she drew a small payment, she blessed the aged 
man who had been so thoughtful, and assured Mother 
Shephard that it was possible there were a few good 
men in the world, after all. 

Doctor Hernando still carried the wallet belong- 
ing to Cornelius Mansfield. 

It had not been delivered, for two reasons, the 
first of which was the unusual demand made on Doc- 
tor Hernando’s time. 

The Sandtown man who broke his leg had all 
kinds of trouble with it. 

Mignon, for weeks after he had taken the wallet, 
required his close attention, and there were a num- 
ber of other cases in the Haven. 

Also, a millionaire on Upper Terrace fell out with 
his physician, and shortly after fell into Doctor Her- 
nando’s hands to be operated on for appendicitis, and 
as he was successful, his success was published 
abroad, as success is apt to be when attending a 
millionaire. 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


173 


If it had not been for this demand on his time, 
Doctor Hernando would not have returned the wal- 
let, for he was waiting for an opportune occasion. 

When this should be, he had not settled in his 
mind, but he had some curiosity to see what Mans- 
field intended to do about it. 

So several weeks went by. 

One night, after a round of calls that had detained 
him until after dark, Doctor Hernando, on entering 
the rotunda of the hotel where he kept rooms, 
stopped midway across the open hall to look more 
closely at a couple of men who sat in an alcove made 
by a bend in the stairs. 

A branching palm on a pedestal partly hid the 
two, still after looking with vigor some seconds, 
Doctor Hernando started across the tiled floor. 

There was the usual din and babel of male voices 
in the air, and the usual accompanying clouds of blue 
smoke, so that Doctor Hernando drew quite close to 
the two men in the alcove without being observed, 
and at a short distance stopped behind them and 
leaned comfortably against a pillar. 


174 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


One of the men wore a tall silk hat which sat well 
back from a low, pink forehead. 

He wore a light top coat, which was open wide and 
pushed back from his shoulders. 

Two fingers of his right hand were playing lazily 
inside two twists of heavy gold watch-chain. 

He mumbled an unlighted cigar, taking it from 
his mouth now and then to shoot a tiny bit of tobacco 
onto the tiled floor. 

The man he talked to was evidently a man of the 
same variety, cast in a slightly different mould. 

He wore a five-dollar derby well down over his 
eyes. 

He picked his teeth, and when the job had been 
finished to his satisfaction, he straightened up, as if 
ready for business, and said with a grin : 

“ Bather a costly move.” 

“ Oh I don’t know,” answered Mansfield. “ You 
should see her.” 

“ But a hundred and eighty-five dollars, man, 
Whew! ” and the speaker tossed the bits of his tooth- 
pick into the spittoon. 

“ Christians come high,” and Mansfield laughed. 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


175 


“ And is she a Christian? ” 

“ She’s a Christian — not one of the kind engaged 
in grab-bag festivals, either.” 

The man in the five-dollar derby whistled, then 
said, “-Pm afraid you’re playing a losing game.” 

Mansfield lifted his silk hat delicately, and turned 
back the lop of hair that had fallen on his forehead. 

Then he settled his hat again, and said with a 
satisfied air: 

“No, sir; Christians come high, but by that sign 
they come. See ” and he tapped his left fore- 

finger half a dozen times with his cigar. “ See here ; 
six weeks ago, by mistake, I left my wallet in her 
room, as bare a barn as was ever devised. She was 
hungry, and crusts are tame eating for a woman who 
works all day and half the night, — by the tips of her 
fingers she may work all night, — but I forgot my 
wallet. In a couple of weeks more I will remember 
about it, and hurry back to get it. Will she have it? 
No; for Christians are human like the rest of us, 
even though they had rather not be. She has paid a 
bit for coal maybe, a little for rent, perhaps she 
bought a new dress, she needed one. I expect she 


176 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


has been living high on porterhouse, and likely the 
kid is wearing red shoes. Anyhow, I’ll step in and 
ask her for the money. She will blush, and she 
blushes like an angel; she will beg and cry, have 
hysterics maybe, and promise to pay it back and all 
such stuff, but I will hold a mortgage on the inde- 
pendent little Christian — and, say, you ought to see 
her! I’ll show her to you when I get a velvet hat on 
her head with an eighteen-inch plume in it.” 

The man in the five-dollar derby laughed, then 
remarked : 

“ The best-laid plans of mice and men ” 

Mansfield held up his hand. 

“ Poetry ruled out. The way to have spoiled the 
plan, the only way, was to have returned the wallet, 
and where is the wallet now?” 

At this juncture, as if in answer to the question, 
some one moved close to Mansfield and placed his 
wallet on his knee. 

“ Here is your wallet,” and looking up, the two 
men discovered Doctor Hernando, who leaned com- 
fortably against the balcony, and taking off his 
glasses, balanced them on his thumb and squinted. 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


177 


Mansfield stared a moment in silent surprise, with- 
out looking at the wallet. 

After scrutinizing him closely for a full minute, 
Doctor Hernando took the wallet from Mansfield’s 
knee. He adjusted his glasses, twisted the rubber 
band from the purse, and taking out the roll of bills, 
held them in his hand. 

“What was the price of the Christian? Did I 
understand you to say there were one hundred and 
eighty-five dollars in the purse? ” and he held the 
roll conspicuously in view. 

“ What the are you doing with my wallet? ” 

and Mansfield straightened up, indignantly. 

But Doctor Hernando paid no attention to him. 
With slow precision, he counted out the bills, putting 
them one by one across Mansfield’s knee, until the 
last had been added to the pile, when he said, “ One 
hundred and eighty-five dollars. A nice price, but 
Christians come high.” 

Then he leaned against the balcony and waited. 

“ I demand an explanation. How came you with 
my wallet? Was yours a larger one? ’ and there was 


178 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


a sneer in Mansfield’s tone, to which Doctor Her- 
nando paid not the slightest heed. 

“ As attending physician at the Haven, I found a 
patient, some weeks ago, critically ill with brain 
fever. About the last rational words she spoke was 
to tell the story of a — ‘ man / we will say, to be 
understood — who had, under sacred promise of mar- 
riage, betrayed and then cast this same woman on 
the world to struggle along as best she might; of a 
‘ man ’ who after years returned, when she was all 
but ready to drop into her grave with want and wear, 
and who left his purse, which the woman gave to the 
matron of the Haven, with the request that it be re- 
turned, and which I now take pleasure in returning. 
During the subsequent delirium of this patient a few 
other interesting bits of information were collected 
regarding this — we are saying ‘ man ’ — interesting, 
but not pretty.” 

“ Do you know who I am?” Mansfield questioned, 
his face turning pale with chagrin, and his wide 
knee trembling until the bills shook. 

“You?” and Doctor Hernando focused his eyes 
on Mansfield and surveyed him carefully. “You do 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


179 


not wear a plumed helmet. You do not carry a 
war-axe nor a shield. Your horse is not caparisoned. 
You do not take dark-haired Jewesses by strategy 
for your own beastly amusement. You do not dis- 
grace the order of the Holy Brotherhood, but you 
disgrace the Brotherhood of man. You are Brian 
de Bois Guilbert.” 

Mansfield was speechless with rage. 

“ You are Galahad, I suppose,” he said, when he 
could control his voice. 

“ When I see a woman fighting for her honor, 
even to the black edge of the grave, I do not try to 
buy her honorable determination from her for one 
hundred and eighty-five dollars, nor force it from her 
by intruding an unhallowed presence in a helpless 
woman’s room.” 

“ The end is not yet,” Mansfield said, half under 
his breath. 

“ Possibly not, but as a physician, I would advise 
you to remember the end of de Bois Guilbert. Too 
much of your sort of loving will spoil your constitu- 
tion, and the days of hiding fair ladies in castle dun- 
geons are happily past.” 


180 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ You are certain? ” and there was a strange note 
in Mansfield’s speech. 

“ You have too much sense to doubt it.” 

Mansfield crushed the bills into a wad and pushed 
them with the wallet into his pocket. 

Doctor Hernando, who had before seated himself 
in the chair vacated by the man in the five-dollar 
derby, settled a move more comfortably, and Mans- 
field lit his cigar. 

Then the two men sat. 

Mansfield smoked slowly, casting furtive glances 
meantime at Doctor Hernando, who seemed uncon- 
scious of his existence. 

Not a word was spoken. 

From time to time Mansfield moved slightly to 
dust the ashes from his cigar, but showed no signs 
of quitting his post. 

Each man seemed determined to outsit the other, 
and after the last smoking end of the cigar had been 
pitched angrily into the spittoon, Mansfield turned, 
and said with ill-concealed wrath : 

“Have you anything further to say to me?” 


A POCKETBOOK ENCOUNTER. 


181 


“ If I had, I should say it,” Doctor Hernando re- 
plied, smoothly. 

“ Your presence is an intrusion.” 

“ You forget we are in a public place.” 

After sitting some minutes longer, Mansfield rose, 
pushed his chair sharply aside, and stood before 
Doctor Hernando. 

“ You probably think you have been of service to 
— this woman. Time will tell if you have.” 

Doctor Hernando bowed. 


CHAPTER X. 


A MODERN BRIAN DE BOIS GUILBERT. 

After she left the Haven for a second time, Mig- 
non’s life fell at once back into the old way. 

She toiled early and late. Her fare was frugal, 
and her room no less dreary, but there was this dif- 
ference now, owing to the kindness of some aged 
philanthropist, such as her fare was, she had not the 
continual fear of being actually without food or of 
being put out of her little home, and at such times 
as she found it impossible to make ends meet, she 
went to Mother Shephard, explained her condition, 
leaving it to the judgment of this wise disburser of 
funds whether she should receive the modest sum 
she mentioned. 

Each time she drew on this fund her confidence in 
some unknown, necessarily aged man, increased. 

After many weeks, she went again to the elegant 
place on Upper Terrace, to try a second time for the 
pay for the linen work. 


182 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 183 


As she mounted the steps, she shuddered at the 
recollection of that other day. 

Once inside, she waited as before for the servant 
to summon the mistress, and as before the swish of 
silk skirts announced the approach of the lady. 

She seemed surprised at Mignon’s appearance, for 
her short hair altered her looks, and when, in answer 
to inquiries, Mignon told the lady of her sickness, the 
lady held up two white hands and said she was sorry, 
and on the strength of this sorrow she gave Mignon 
another square of linen to embroider. 

She had not intended to do this, and was so 
surprised at herself for having been overcome by 
sympathy, that she remedied the mistake as far as 
possible by ordering half again as much work put 
on the article as was usual for the price she paid. 

“ The rose leaves must stand as high as a crisp 
new leaf, and shade them carefully,” she explained. 
“ The silk must be very fine, and don’t for the world 
let a knot show in the corner spiderwebs, and be sure 
and get it done before Friday,' for I am going to give 
a rose tea, and I just must have it.” 


184 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Mignon felt like throwing the bundle at the lady’s 
head, but instead she took it meekly, for working- 
women must at all times appear meek, and thanking 
the lady for the price of the first piece of work — 
minus a third deducted for two crooked stitches — 
she took her leave. 

sfe * s}e si< 

After some months, little Telsa, Mignon’s child, 
began to show symptoms of some peculiar condition 
which Mignon could not understand. 

The child had always been nervous and odd, but 
after her third year the symptoms seemed to aggra- 
vate. Sometimes when the child twitched, Mignon 
thought perhaps it was St. Vitus dance, of which she 
had heard much and knew nothing, and when the 
child’s rest began to be broken at intervals, she doc- 
tored it with such simple remedies as mothers use. 

At times the child rested well, played and laughed, 
then again, with no apparent reason, she threw her 
spools and playthings away and walked around aim- 
lessly; still, there seemed to be nothing so startling 
in her manner as to alarm Mignon, until one night, 
when she was cutting patterns, the papers seemed to 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 185 


move away from the spot on the table where she 
placed them. 

For a time, she pushed the scraps of paper back 
where she had first placed them and which was near 
the child, but they would not remain, and the strange 
sight of bits of paper moving themselves across the 
table attracted her attention. 

After experimenting for some time with papers of 
different sizes, she discovered, to her great surprise, 
that they all moved away from the child. 

Other small articles were then placed on the table, 
and these, while perfectly quiet unless she came near 
them, moved suddenly away at the child’s approach. 

Mignon, for a time, was very much worried, and 
watched the child closely, but as nothing more serious 
for a time developed, she became in a way used to 
the strange phenomenon, which was only at times 
visible, her one care being not to let anyone know of 
it, but she no longer took the child out with her, 
and found it necessary to make her trips after a 
neighbor had returned from work to look after little 
Telsa. 


186 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Some weeks after his encounter with Mansfield in 
the hotel, Doctor Hernando was going down one of 
the main streets of Border City after lamp-light, 
when in passing a window of Mansfield’s office, which 
was generally dark, he noticed a light. This of itself 
would not have attracted his attention, hut through 
the glass partition of the office he saw two men, one 
of whom wore a tall silk hat and light top coat, and 
was by these, Mansfield. 

Mansfield was standing with his back toward the 
window, and facing him was a man some taller than 
he, much thinner, and dressed in a closely-buttoned 
black coat that came as far toward the floor as was 
visible through the window. He wore a slouch hat, 
pulled well down over his face, and a heavy growth of 
dark beard added to his general dark appearance. 

In passing, Doctor Hernando merely noticed the 
two as they stood together. 

Turning down a side street, not long after this, 
he saw some distance ahead of him a woman. 

She was walking hurriedly, and carried a bundle. 
There was something familiar about her, and yet 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 187 


something strange, but Doctor Hernando kept her in 
sight for several blocks. 

If she had been carrying a child, or had had one 
by the hand, he would have been certain of her iden- 
tity; as it was, he squinted in vain until, in turning 
a corner, she passed under a light and he could see 
her plainly. 

With the sight he hastened his steps until, when 
he too turned the corner, she was not more than half 
a block ahead of him. 

It was about this time that Doctor Hernando, on 
looking across the street, noticed a man, tall and 
straight, in a black coat that reached nearly to the 
ground, and a slouch hat, making his way on the 
opposite side of the street. 

The man walked with his eyes cast down and 
his hat well drawn over them, but he walked rapidly, 
and seeing him, Doctor Hernando himself took 
longer strides, for the man across the street had been 
with Mansfield, and Mansfield was de Bois Guilbert. 

Doctor Hernando removed his glasses and tucked 
them in a button-hole, so that he could better watch 


188 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


both the nervous-appearing woman and the dark man 
in the slouch hat. 

After a walk of several blocks, during which the 
three kept at about the same distance from one an- 
other, the woman turned a corner, her turn was imi- 
tated by the tall, dark man on the opposite side of 
the street, and followed by Doctor Hernando. 

This movement on the part of the man increased 
Doctor Hernando’s suspicions that Mignon was being 
followed, still he tried to believe it had only hap- 
pened so, until a second and a third turn had been 
made by the woman, closely followed by the man on 
the opposite side of the street. 

They had left the well-lighted streets now, and 
before them lay a long stretch of walk dimly lighted 
at long intervals by a gas-light. 

On coming out into this place, the dark man on 
the opposite side of the street increased his pace until 
he passed Mignon. 

When he had reached a point at least a block 
ahead of her, he crossed the street to her side, and 
turned back to meet her. 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 189 

The place was dark, Mignon’s figure was espe- 
cially indistinct as she was nearing the middle of the 
block. 

There was not another person in sight. 

Suddenly, just before meeting Mignon, the dark 
man, to Doctor Hernando’s astonishment, disap- 
peared, and knowing that his place of disappearance 
must have been the mouth of an alley-way, he hur- 
ried his steps. 

As Mignon came to this point she rather hesitated, 
then as if to have a bad matter the sooner over, she 
gathered her skirts in her hand and started across the 
way almost at a run. 

Then she, too, suddenly disappeared. 

With all haste, Doctor Hernando rushed to the 
mouth of the alley-way, the whole plot now being 
clear to his mind. 

Against the sky the tops of a line of high board- 
fence left the suspicion of a line, but near the ground 
the place was midnight black; the scuffling of feet, 
however, told him that the two were near the en- 


trance. 


190 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


His eyes were not yet used to the darkness, but 
directed by the sound, he rushed toward the spot 
and shouted. 

Immediately the scuffling stopped. 

Some one was heard to be running down the dark- 
ness, and a woman cried aloud. 

Her dark outlines were becoming distinguishable 
now, and Doctor Hernando stepped toward her. 

“ Do not be afraid/’ he said, “ I am your friend.” 

“ Oh, Doctor Hernando! ” she exclaimed, ex- 
citedty, breaking into sobs. 

“Are you hurt?” he inquired, in a low voice. 

“ I am nearly strangled.” 

“ You are very much frightened. Take my arm, 
and we will get out of this pit, and in the light see 
what harm has been done.” 

Mignon slipped her arm through his, and caught 
her fingers around his sleeve, and Doctor Hernando 
knew by the way her arm trembled against his that 
she was frightened almost into hysterics. 

As they turned into the less-dark street, she sud- 
denly stopped. 


“ What is it? ” he inquired. 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 191 


“ My bundle.” 

Doctor Hernando picked it up, for it lay almost 
beneath her feet, and after tucking it under his arm, 
they made their way toward the nearest light. 

When Mignon had grown composed enough to 
talk, she said: 

“ I met him, but I was in such a hurry I did not 
notice how he looked. Did you notice him? Do you 
know him? ” 

“ I do not know him.” 

“ I wonder ” and she stopped, for she had 

never mentioned Mansfield’s name to anyone but 
Mother Shephard, and she never intended to let his 
name pass her lips again. 

But Doctor Hernando understood her pause, and 
added, quickly, “ He was thin and tall, with a dark 
beard.” 

Something like a sigh of relief escaped her lips. 

“ Then he was trying to rob me. I wonder why? 
Do I look as if I had money? ” 

“ There is much that cannot be decided by looks.” 

“ But why should anyone think I have money, or 
anything else worth stealing?” 


192 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Just here they came into a light, and Doctor Her- 
nando noticed that Mignon held her hand away from 
her body, and that there were dark stains around her 
wrist. 

Stopping under the light, he adjusted his glasses. 

“ Let me see your hand,” and he wondered if she 
would. 

When she did, he knew that she was not yet over 
her fright. 

There was a long cut running from the inside of 
her wrist around toward the back of her hand. 

Doctor Hernando examined it carefully under the 
light. It had not been cut by any instrument, and 
was nothing more than a long scratch. 

“ It is nothing serious,” he said. “ It was prob- 
ably done by a seal ring, a watch-charm, or a metal 
button,” and he drew a fresh handkerchief from his 
pocket. 

“ This is not surgically clean, but it is clean, and 
the best at hand to bind it in. I shall not suggest 
going to the office to dress it. We may go into a 
drug-store, if you wish, but I think you can attend to 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 103 


it yourself when you get home. It is really nothing 
but a scratch.” 

Then Doctor Hernando’s voice changed with the 
passing of the subject, and he said shortly: “ Don’t 
you know you should not be on the streets at night? ” 

“ What is a woman to do who must be out? ” 

“ You used to go in the daytime.” 

“ My baby was well then.” 

“ Then you should always take a car.” 

“ If so, I should always have the money for car- 
fare, which I have not.” 

“ You were walking to-night.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ The walk is too long,” and he turned back to see 
if there were a car in sight. 

“ I will go on a car,” she said, drawing her hand 
quickly through his arm, as if she had forgotten, and 
then he knew that she w T as getting over her fright. 

“ I am going with you,” he informed her. 

“ No, no,” she said, almost appealingly. 

“ Why? ” he questioned, coolly. 

“ Have you thought that it takes years to build a 


194 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


good name, which can be marred in a minute? You 
have an honorable name ; you are very proud of your 
good name. I had one once. Perhaps in years 
and years — when my baby is a woman, I may have 
again.” 

Doctor Hernando smiled, but Mignon did not 
know it from his next remark. 

“ Between the car stop and your street there are 
half a dozen alley-ways as black as the one we have 
been in. Think of my action as you must, but I 
shall not warrant your poor opinion by letting you 
pass these alone.” 

Mignon made no answer to this, neither did she 
slip her arm through his again, but he noticed that 
every time a man approached she stepped nearer him, 
and this was at least a gain. 

Once on the car, the ride was made in silence. 

Mignon knew that he was studying her with as 
much care as if she were some newly-discovered 
species, indeed she almost felt that she was, and that 
under the microscope of his keen analysis he would 
yet know her better than she knew herself. This 
worried her. 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 195 


When the ride was over, Doctor Hernando assisted 
her from the car-step, and they started again into a 
shadowy place. 

“ Doctor Hernando,” she said, after they had 
walked a block in silence, “ I thank you for your 
kindness to me, and I thank the Lord, too. I am 
sure it must have been a part of His plan that you 

happened along to-night. If you had not ” and 

she shuddered. 

“ But I did not happen along,” he answered, with 
nice emphasis on the word “ happen.” 

“ You were there.” 

“ I had followed you seven blocks.” 

“ Why were you following me?” and there was 
the old familiar tone of resentment in the words. 

“ Because I saw you alone, and knew that you 
were unsafe.” 

“ And do you often follow lonely women whom 
you consider unsafe?” 

“ I have not done such a thing before.” 

“ Then why should you follow me?” , 

“ Because I am your friend, and hope some time 
to be recognized as such.” 


106 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ But why are you determined to be my friend? 
I do not understand.” 

“ Why am I determined to be your friend? Prob- 
ably because you are the only woman who ever openly 
defied me — because I am by nature determined to do 
what certain people and powers declare I shall not 
do. 

“ I once rescued a bird from a cat. Its wing was 
hurt, and I mended it, and this bird I kept in a cage 
and I watched it recover from the attack of the cat. 
But the cat I found watching it, too, and the cat was 
planning to eat it as it watched. Then I determined 
the cat should not eat the bird, and for weeks a man’s 
determination was pitted against a cat’s, while the 
bird’s wing grew strong. When I finally gave the 
bird its freedom, I smiled as it winged its way over 
the head of the crouching cat, but I smiled too soon. 
The next morning the cat ate the bird. And I killed 
the cat. 

“ If with the years my interest has transferred it- 
self from birds to humanity, I must not be blamed, 
my only regret now being that I am denied the 
pleasure of killing the cat, in whatever guise it may 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 197 


appear. If I cannot give you friendly advice, accept 
my professional advice, and unless it is a matter of 
life and death, keep off the streets after dark. I am 
going to ask you to promise me that you will, for I 
have the best of reasons for believing that the man 
who trapped you to-night very well knew you had no 
money, he was not a robber — he was a cat in dis- 
guise.” 

Mignon looked up at Doctor Hernando, with ter- 
ror in her eyes. 

“ I am sorry to say this to you,” he continued, 
“but, trust me, it is true. Will you make me the 
promise I have asked ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Another bit of advice : Do not trust a key to 
lock your door, get a bolt, and use it.” 

After walking a short distance farther in silence, 
the barnlike proportions of Mignon’s tenement rose 
in sight. 

“ And there is yet one more promise,” and Doctor 
Hernando spoke slowly, as if approaching uncertain 
ground. “ If you should need— really need a friend 
to do a service for you, would you let me know? 


198 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Mignon was silent a moment. She felt under 
lasting obligations to Doctor Hernando, but she also 
felt that she must be very cautious. 

“ I will think about it,” she said, and Doctor Her- 
nando left her at the door of the tenement. 

That night, on returning to his room, he sat down 
to take a retrospective view of the evening, and to 
take his bearings on some other little matters. 

That there had been a plot, with Mansfield at the 
bottom, to take by force what he could not get an- 
other way, was evident. He remembered Mansfield’s 
words in the hotel. 

It seemed hardly possible that a man would so 
boldly attempt to carry out a design, and yet no man 
knew better than Doctor Hernando that he was safe 
enough in attempting it. 

Who would believe the woman’s report? Against 
her name there fell the shadow of a sin, and the 
world makes much of shadows when they have fallen 
on a woman. 

The vexed subject resolved itself in many different 
shapes, in Doctor Hernando’s mind. 

As a man, he was experiencing the feelings he 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 199 


had known when as a hoy the helpless flutter of the 
bird’s wing against his hand had aroused his tender 
pity and his hot displeasure, only that now the 
woman’s hand that had trembled on his arm had 
mingled with the pity it awakened something 
stranger and stronger, and while he did not try to 
analyze this feeling, he found himself possessed of a 
desire in some way to get between this beautiful and 
pitifully independent woman and the world. 

How to accomplish this, was the question that 
puzzled his brain ; and after the subject had evoluted 
undisturbed for half an hour, a conclusion developed 
that the only way to take her under his protection, 
was to make her his wife. 

When he had arrived at this conclusion, he was 
astounded at the riotous lengths to which his mind 
had run, for this’was the one thing not to be thought 
of. 

This was not that he was afraid of society; in 
fact, it would have afforded him no small degree of 
pleasure to have shocked society; he felt that he 
owed it a shock. Neither was it that the shadow of 
a former sin hung over her life. He did not attach 


200 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


to a shadow its importance, as generally implied, 
when he was sure it was hut a shadow, and compared 
to the man who was equally guilty and whose name 
was on the lips of society, he thought her an angel; 
and he also deemed her more worthy of respect than 
many a woman who would not so much as brush 
skirts with her, for fear of contamination. 

But Mignon had no earthly use for him, except 
professionally, and even here she had been allowed 
no choice; his services had been forced upon her. 

But two things he decided. 

One was that he would, if possible, shield her 
from harm, and unthanked, be her friend. The other 
was, that he would think no more of her lest he 
might play the fool by crying once again, with new 
force, “ Myone! My one! ” 

A few days after the rescue of Mignon, Doctor 
Hernando was at the Haven, when Mother Shephard 
gave him a small roll, telling him that Mignon had 
been there the day before and had left it for him. 

With a strange sense of pleasure, he slipped this 
into his pocket, wondering what it was that she had 


A MODERN BRIAN de BOIS GUILBERT. 201 


sent him, and feeling wonderfully elated because she 
had thought of him at all. 

Perhaps it was some trifle to show her apprecia- 
tion of his friendship, perhaps it would contain some 
written line from her, some few words telling him 
that at last he had won her confidence as well as her 
thanks. 

With the thoughts of the package in his mind, he 
made his round of calls as quickly as possible, and as 
soon as he was once more in his carriage he took out 
the roll. 

It was neatly wrapped and tied. 

Very carefully he untied the knots and unwrapped 
the paper, and then out rolled his own linen hand- 
kerchief, freshly laundered. 

There was not a mark or a touch about it to re- 
mind him that it had ever been in her possession, 
and hastily wrapping it up again, he leaned forward, 
and threw it with some force. When it fell into a 
gutter, he smiled with satisfaction. 

“ Let her go, then,” he said to himself. “ I am a 


fool.” 


PART II. 
CHAPTER XI. 


DARIAH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 

Dariah Plunkett was evidently in a state of great 
agitation. 

His chin worked with exceeding velocity, and he 
muttered fierce imprecations, meantime holding high 
a ragged fragment of some brown thing. 

To a disinterested third party, this stringy frag- 
ment w r ould have been a puzzle ; to Dariah Plunkett, 
it was the remains of a boot. 

“ A-ny beast thatTl eat b-boots, T1 eat me. They’ll 
be nibbling the crust off my forehead, t-tearing out 
my eye b-brows, and licking my t-toe nails to-night,” 
and he cast a despairing glance around the room, 
then raising his face, he flourished the brown remains 
over his head, and called, “ O-Ouijah, where art 
t-thou? ” 

For a moment he stood in a state of expectancy, 
but as nothing happened, or seemed about to, with a 

long and mournful sigh, he rolled the brown remains 
202 


DARIAH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 


203 


into a wad and stuffed it under his one-legged clock, 
after which he sat down by his bench to study out a 
means of escape from his present ill-surroundings. 

For three years, without intermission, his life had 
been made miserable, by one thing or another, in his 
present abode. 

First, half a bushel of brick fell down the inside 
of the chimney and lodged somewhere, blocking up 
the air passage, so that the smoke could only make its 
escape through the front door. 

After this, in a twisting storm, a couple of shingles 
left the roof and sailed away on the reckless breeze, 
and water added itself to smoke. 

Then a post fell down under the house, the floor 
settled, and left cracks around the doors and win- 
dows, and wind added itself to smoke and water. 

All this time, Dariah was with his entire energy 
trying to accomplish one of two things, by laboring 
alternately with his material landlord and his spirit- 
ual counsellor, Ouijah. 

The former he prayed to fix the cabin, but the 
landlord being a hard-hearted creature, would not 
yield to the old man’s importunings. 


204 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


He then prayed the ever-watchful Ouijah to direct 
him to another room, but she being all heart, thought 
it best to let the old man tough it out on strictly 
natural lines, and he being afraid to leave his habita- 
tion of years without the consent of the spirit, lest he 
should forever estrange himself from her, stayed on, 
and weathered the elements, and muttered. 

But when he awoke one morning, and found his 
sticky and fresh-smelling new boots missing, his 
wrath swelled, and he determined that* with or 
without the consent of Ouijah, he must leave the 
place at once, if he would not share the fate of the 
boots. 

It generally took Dariah Plunkett from four to 
twelve hours to become accustomed to a change in 
his own mind, before he prepared to carry it out, so 
that he remained yet one more night in his old abode 
after the rats ate his boots. 

Anticipating an attack, however, he was prepared, 
and with a stout club, a kettle of boiling water, and 
a bottle of carbolic acid, he awaited the onslaught. 

It was with great joy that his silent watch was 
interrupted about midnight by the familiar, loose, 


DARI AH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 


205 


rattling chuckle, sounding in the upper corner of the 
room. 

“ O-Ouijah? 99 he cried. 

Three raps. 

“Hail, Ouijah! The r-rats have e-eat my boots, 
b-by goll ” 

Three raps. 

“ And you have c-come to k-keep them f-from eat- 
ing me? ” 

Three raps. 

A look of joy spread over the man’s face; his chin 
worked with all vigor, and he said, “ How g-good of 
y-you! ” 

Three raps. 

“ And I m-must m-move ? ” 

Three raps. 

“Where to?” 

No answer. 

“ F-further south ? ” 

Two raps. 

“ A b-bit to the e-east ? 99 

Two raps. 

“ Ho I t-turn to the w-west? ” 


206 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Two raps. 

“ Try it n-north ? ” 

Three raps. 

Dariah mused. 

“ Any r-rats there? ” 

No answer. 

“ Any b-body I k-know? 99 

No answer. 

Then Dariah Plunkett knew that Ouijah, having 
performed her mission, had retired. 

The next morning before daylight he had his few 
belongings prepared for moving, and when other 
people were breakfasting, he took a bee-line north to 
find an empty room. 

After some search, he came upon a sign on the 
corner of a barnlike structure, which advertised one 
room for rent. 

Even before he entered it, he was sure this must 
be the place. So it proved, and having few worldly 
possessions, before noon of the same day he was peg- 
ging away in his new home as comfortably as if he 
had always been there. His cat purred on a piece of 
carpet, and voices from adjoining rooms floated 


DARI AH DISCOVERS THE VEERY, 


207 


through the board partitions which served as walls, 
while footsteps sounded in the empty hall now and 
then. 

After a spell for some moments undisturbed by 
footsteps, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a 
little figure hovering around his door. 

He appeared not to notice the child, and after 
many moves nearer and back, and nearer again, she 
finally stepped into the doorway and stopped. 

Then Dariah Plunkett turned his face toward her. 

She stood leaning against the doorside, with one 
foot on top of the other, crossways, and her hands 
behind her. 

Her hair was black. Where it left her head, it 
was soft like a cloud, but the ends went together in 
precise curls, of which there were not more than four. 

Her eyes were rather narrow, and intensely blue, 
and her face was attractive or not, according to taste. 

Dariah Plunkett considered it the most bewitch- 
ing he had ever set his eyes upon. 

By her appearance, the age of the child was hard 
to fell, for though very small, she carried herself 
with the mature air of a person of some years. 


208 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


She did not seem in the least embarrassed by 
Dariah Plunkett’s study of her, seemingly too much 
absorbed in him to notice that he seemed waiting for 
her to speak. 

After a couple of minutes of careful study on 
the part of both, she said in a quaint, childish 
voice, “ Does your chin jump like a frog all the 
time? ” 

“ I-its been a going f-for twenty years n-now.” 

“ What makes it go? ” 

“ The s-s-spirits set its motion for a m-message, 
but t-they haven’t s-s-sent the words yet.” 

The child looked in wonderment, and as she 
watched him, she worked her chin in fairly good 
imitation. 

Dariah Plunkett laughed. 

“ W-w-hats ” he presently began. 

“ Why don’t you say it? ” she interrupted. 

Y-your name? ” he added, with an effort. 

“ Telsa.” 

“M-Mary Telsa or A- Annie Telsa?” 

“ Telsa, Telsa,” she repeated, smiling at his sim- 
plicity. 


DARI AH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 


209 


“ W-what does y-your mother c-call you?” he 
again tried. 

“ Telsa.” 

Dariah Plunkett, not to he outdone, made yet an- 
other attempt. 

“ What is your father’s n-name ? 99 

“ I have no father.” 

“ What w-was his n-name ? 99 

“ He never had a name.” 

Dariah Plunkett stopped for a moment, discour- 
aged, and looked at the child curiously. 

“ All f-fathers have names,” he said. 

“ Mine never had,” and she straightened her feet 
on the threshold. 

“ T-then he’s different f-father f-from others.” 

“ So am I different.” 

“ W-who says s-s-so? ” 

“ My mother.” 

Dariah Plunkett took up the shoe that he had 
placed by his side, and studied the last peg he had 
put in it. 

“ Who do y-you play with ? ” he asked, putting the 
shoe down again. 


210 


JUSTICE TO THE VVOMAN. 


“ Nobody.” 

“ Don’t y-you like to p-play?” 

“ I never tried it. My mother cries and says, ‘ No, 
baby,’ when I ask her to go in the street; so I don’t 
play.” 

“ W-why don’t s-s-she let you? ” 

The child looked at him earnestly a moment, and 
then said quizzically, turning her head like a jay, 
“ Don’t you know I have spells? ” 

“ Fits? ” inquired Dariah. 

“ No, not jits , spells, and I can do things you can- 
not; but don’t you ever tell anybody I told you so.” 

“ W-what can you d-do? ” 

“ Won’t you ever tell?” 

“ No.” 

“ Honest?” 

“ H-honest, I won’t.” 

“ When the spell is first on, before I get tired and 
•dizzy, I can hold my hand out this way, and the 
table will walk away from it, like a dog or a bear, 
only, of course, its legs don’t work,” and she held her 
arm straight before her, with the palm of her small 
hand turned toward him. 


DARIAH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 


211 


“ And when it first comes on/’ she continued, 
“ before the pains twist so in my side, I can make the 
wood-box go around the room, with my mother sit- 
ting on it. Can you do that?” 

Dariah Plunkett’s chin worked rapidly, and he 
eyed the child with distrust. 

“ N-no, I c-can’t; neither c-can you.” 

“ 0 but I can. Put a piece of paper on the table. 
The strong spell is not here now, but paper will go 
like the wind.” 

Dariah carefully placed his work aside, and after 
some hunt, placed a sheet of wrapping-paper on the 
table. 

The child crossed the room with a quick, nervous 
step, and extended her arm toward the paper, when 
it flew away as if the wind had driven it. 

He replaced it on the table. 

“ D-do it again,” he stammered. 

And a second time the child reached her hand to- 
ward the paper, and it floated away. 

“ B-by g-goll! ” he exclaimed. 

“ Try a piece of kindling, or a pencil,” she sug- 
gested. 


212 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


He placed several small articles on the table, one 
after another, and at the approach of the child’s 
hand they scudded away and fell over the edge of the 
table onto the floor. 

Dariah Plunkett stood before the child in amaze- 
ment, and she laughed a merry, childish laugh, well- 
pleased with his consternation. 

* That’s nothing,” she said. “ When the spell is 
strong I can do like this,” holding out her hand, 
“ and your whole bench, and all on it, will hurry away 
crazy, and if you try to stop it, you will fall.” 

“ W-when do you have them s-s-strong? ” 

“ Not every day, and I’m glad, for they make me 
nearly dead, I’m so tired, for they twist and hurt 
right here,” and she pressed her hand to her left 
side, below her waist. 

“But days they come, it’s after dark, before I go 
to bed. Then I have to stand on the old life-pre- 
server, and I shake all over, and I cannot move, for 
everything I touch goes crazy and breaks. My 
mother stays near me, and if she puts her hands on 
me, they tingle.” 

“Y-you have a s-s-spirit,” Dariah ventured. 


DARI AH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 


213 


“ What’s a spirit ? ” 

“ A s-s-spirit is — a s-s-spirit.” 

“ Is it? ” 

“ S-sure.” 

u The thing that set your chin going? ” 

“ Y-yes 

“ Well I hope it don’t get me started like that.” 

“ Its already g-ot you s-s-started.”. 

The child shook her curly head, thoughtfully. 

“ No,” she said, “ ’cause mine stops most of the 
time.” 

“ What m-makes you do t-these things, t-then ? ” 

“ Something in here,” and again she pressed her 
hand to her side. 

“ When the spell is on, when I touch things, a 
twisting begins away down here,” and she lowered 
her hand until it lay over the region of her pelVis. 
“ Then it comes up till it gets here,” and she pressed 
her side, “ and here it jumps, and does everything, 
and my whole side gets hotter and hotter, until half 
of me is warm and half is cold, and it tumbles all 
over, and wiggles me, and when my mother puts her 
hand against my side, it shakes, too, until she takes 


214 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


it away. So I never play with the others,” and the 
child sighed. 

“ When will you have a strong spell again ? ” 

“ To-night, maybe — maybe not. They are a great 
trouble, and I get tired standing on the life-preserver. 
Once in a while I step off on the bare floor, but things 
act so I don’t often forget.” 

“ I w-want to s-s-see you have a s-s-spell.” 

“ Well you can’t do it. We are not a show, and 
you can’t peep through the cracks either, for my 
mother has pasted paper over them, and be sure you 
never tell anybody I’ve told you about them. No- 
body knows I have spells but us, and I told you be- 
cause you promised not to tell.” 

“ Maybe y-you’ll have a s-s-spell in here, some 
day.” 

*“ You better hope I won’t. You have no cushion 
life-preserver, and my mother would not be here to 
bathe me and take care of me. I am tired when the 
spell goes off. Sometimes I cry when it twists too 
hard, and I always go to sleep. Now tell me what 
your name is? ” 

The old man smiled, and said, “ My name is Plun- 


DARIAH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 


215 


kett. I’ll be your Uncle Dariah, if you s-s-say s-s-so.” 

“ What for? ” 

“ The children w-where I lived 1-last year called 
me ‘ Uncle Dariah.’ ” 

“ Were they nice children?” 

u Tolerable.” 

Just then some one in the hall called “ Telsa, 
Telsa,” and the child quickly disappeared. 

After she had gone, Dariah Plunkett hammered 
on his neglected shoe a few moments, and then 
put it aside again to survey the cracks around the 
wall. 

On aty sides of the room but one there was at 
least one opening through which a sharp eye might 
have peered, but the cracks in the partition between 
his room and the room occupied by the child and her 
mother had been carefully covered. 

The wicked notion of pricking a hole with his 
awl came to his mind, so interested was he in the 
child, who he supposed to be possessed of a spirit, 
but it is doubtful if he would have succumbed to 
even this temptation, had not a greater added itself 
to tempt him past the limit of man’s endurance. 


216 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Sitting in the twilight, after eating his first sup- 
per in his new home, the notes of a song struck his 
ear, and with the first vibrations he started up. 

The notes came from the room, adjoining, and the 
words ran: 

“ On the other side of Jordan, 

In the sweet fields of Eden, 

Where the tree of life is blooming, 

There is rest for me.” 

Dariali Plunkett rose excitedly, and stepping close 
to the wall, listened, then exclaimed, “ The veery, 
the veery, b-by goll,” and he went hurriedly into the 
hall and toward the door of his neighbor’s room. 

This he found closed, and returning to his room, 
he selected the widest crack, and with his awl 
punched a hole through it. It was a small hole, and 
his eyes were none of the best, still he could see, for 
the room into which he looked was light. 

In a low chair, a woman sat with the child on her 
lap, rocking gently. 

As he had expected, her hair was black. 

Over and over the words of her chorus were re- 
peated, and over and over Dariali said to himself, 
“ The veery, the veery! ” 


DAK I AH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 


217 


Presently the woman stopped singing to answer 
some question the child had asked, and while Dariali 
Plunkett breathed softly, he did not leave the crack. 

“ What is Jordan?” 

“ Water — Jordan is a river.” 

“ Is it far from here? ” 

“ A long way.” 

“ How will we get across it ? ” 

“ We do not have to cross a real river — real water. 
It means when life is over we will rest.” 

“ Is life like water? ” 

“ Something like the lake, maybe.” 

“You can’t see the other side?” 

“ No.” 

“ And rest is there — and the tree of life? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ With oranges on it? ” 

The woman drew the child to her breast, and 
pressed her lips against the little one’s forehead. 

“ Oranges? Yes, dear, if you want them.” 

“ How do you get there? ” 

“ Just set out on this side, and the waves will wash 
you across.” 


218 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ And that is life ? ” 

“ That would be death — the crossing would.” 

“ I don’t understand.” 

“ Nor I, either, dear. Nobody does; but life is 
on this side, and rest on the other.” 

“ And the waves are washing us across ? ” 

“ Truly, dearest.” 

“ I wish they would wash a little higher — a little 
faster. Fm tired of this side.” 

The mother straightened up, and stood the child 
on the floor. 

She reached her hand toward a chair, and the 
chair drew violently away. 

Hurriedly the mother drew a cushion of some sort 
from under the bed, and stood the child on it, and 
as she moved her, articles of furniture brushed by 
the child’s dress seemed suddenly instinct with life, 
as they tumbled out of the way. 

When she rested on the cushion, the commotion 
was stayed, but the child’s body continued to twist 
perceptibly. 

Dariah Plunkett stood spellbound, and after the 
spell had worn awajr, leaving the child exhausted, its 


DARIAH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 


219 


mother put it to sleep, and then Mignon heard 
strange noises in the new neighbor’s room and in- 
articulate conversation, for Ouijah had come to pay 
her respects to Dariah, and from her he learned, to 
his great satisfaction, that a spirit from the sixth 
realm had taken possession of little Telsa, and 
through her was rendering such wonders as it was 
not yet lawful to speak of. 

This information, thus early given, knit a bond 
of affection between the child and “ Uncle Dariah,” 
for while Telsa knew nothing of Ouijah’s infor- 
mation, she appreciated the efforts on the old man’s 
behalf to entertain her. 

* * * * * * * 

The morning after Dariah Plunkett had moved, 
when Doctor Hernando arrived at his office, the first 
object that met his eye was that of a tall, rather 
bow-legged old man. 

After studying this old man for a minute, Doctor 
Hernando recognized his old patient, whose race had 
been so nearly run some seven years before. 

When Dariah saw the man he waited for ap- 
proaching, he walked to the hitching-post to meet 


220 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


him, and before the Doctor had stepped to the 
ground, he said, in an excited undertone, “ I-Fve 
found t-the veery.” 

“ You have found the what? ” 

“ The v-veery — our v-veery.” 

“ I see. How did you discover her ? 99 

“ By her v-voice, to be s-s-sure. I’ve moved.” 

“She sings, does she?” 

“ Like a v-veery, and her words run, ‘ O-on the 
other s-s-side of the lake, there’s a place to 
r-rest.” 

“ Is she going across the lake? ” 

Dariah Plunkett looked discouraged. 

“ S-s-she s-s-says life is a lake, and the r-rest is on 
the other s-s-side.” 

“ I see. Will you come into the office? ” 

Dariah Plunkett followed Doctor Hernando, and 
when they were alone, he said in a whisper, “ The 
v-veery has a little c-child.” 

“ Is that so? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Dariah, shaking his head, sol- 
emnly. 

“ What of it? ” inquired Doctor Hernando. 


DARI AH DISCOVERS THE VEERY. 


221 


Dariali Plunkett opened his eyes wide, then said 
hurriedly in a low voice. 

“ Where is the child’s father? Has the c-child 
ever had a f-father?” 

Doctor Hernando was amused with the old man’s 
evident perplexity and embarrassment, but he pre- 
served a grave face, as Dariah continued : 

“Like enough he’s p-proved to be a s-s-snake, 
b-by goll, but s-s-snake or no s-s-snake, we are wit- 
nesses, you and me.” 

“ And if we find him a snake, of what use are we? 
Snakes are slippery.” 

“ But we c-can box even a s-s-snake. The child 
must have a f-father.” 

“ After all these years? ” 

Dariah Plunkett nodded his head, emphatically. 

Doctor Hernando surveyed him with interest, 
then said slowly, “ We had as well keep our secret. 
The man in the tall hat is a snake, and such a one 
as cannot be boxed, for Cornelius Mansfield will 
never marry your little woman with the black hair 
and the voice of a veery.” 

“ Ay, b-but he will.” 


222 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ What is your authority? ” 

“ The s-s-spirits.” 

“The same who said your race was run seven years 
ago?” 

“ The s-s-same.” 

“ But you are here yet.” 

Dariah Plunkett’s chin worked rapidly, but as the 
spirits put no defense in his mouth, he said nothing. 

“ Perhaps you were spared to watch the veery.” 

Dariah’s face brightened at this suggestion, and 
he said with a smile, “ S-s-sure, b-by goll.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 

During the five years that had intervened since 
Doctor Hernando last attended Mignon in the 
Haven, some few changes had come into his life. 

In personal appearance he was unchanged, but 
professionally the nature of his duties had shaped 
itself to fit a well-deserved advancement. 

He was no longer attending physician at the 
Haven. 

Obstetrical cases, with fevers thrown in, at so 
much per month, are good for a beginning, but sur- 
gical cases at five hundred per operation swell the 
bank account faster, and gain distinction for their 
skilled performer. 

Now, at the age of forty-two, Doctor Hernando 
realized the ambitions of his early days, for no one 
stood higher in his chosen profession than he. 

As a consequence, his rooms at the hotel had 

been refurnished, and a valet cared for them, put 
223 


224 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


the Doctor’s slippers and dressing-gown by his chair, 
and dusted his hooks. 

As another direct outcome of his enviable pro- 
fessional position, society, which had timidly invited 

j 

him before, now became profuse in invitations and 
requests, which were rarely accepted, presumably 
because his time was too valuable. Still, he had 
time to visit the washwoman’s boy once in a while, 
and to prescribe for some working-woman’s baby. 

At long intervals in his busy life, he had moments 
of lonesome reflection, and the question uppermost 
in his mind at such times was, why it had been or- 
dained that he must throw his love away on a worth- 
less woman, and why another woman, fair and alto- 
gether womanly, must throw her love away on a 
worthless man. The solution of this problem always 
evaded him, and invariably he finished such times 
of thought with the determination never again to 
entangle himself in the toils of this strangest of 
fate’s puzzles. 

Still, like a ghost hovering around the outposts of 
his life, it haunted him throughout the years, and as 
often as he opened the door of his private office to 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


225 


usher in a waiting patient, his eye hastily scanned 
those in the parlor with the faint hope that perhaps 
some time Mignon’s child, too, might he sick. 

But though she never came, and he rarely saw 
her, he had not by any means lost sight of her; for, 
while he no longer paid regular visits to the Haven, 
he found a minute once in a while to drop in for a 
visit with Mother Shephard. 

A few times since he had tossed the handkerchief 
into the gutter, he had seen Mignon here. 

In answer to his courteous greeting, she had 
spoken kindly, hut her early reserve remained un- 
broken. 

From time to time, through the years, she found 
it necessary to draw on the fund for Working 
Women. Sometimes months went by without a call, 
and then Doctor Hernando knew she was either 
working more hours out of the twenty-four, or get- 
ting better pay, and it was with an interest blended 
of pain and pleasure, when weeks had gone by with- 
out a call for help, that he listened while Mother 
Shephard told him of some sorry plight that Mignon 
had been in. 


226 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


But no one ever told him of the child. No one 
knew. This was the one secret Mignon guarded 
with jealous care, hoping that little Telsa would out- 
grow the strange disorder, and fearing the notoriety 
that her case would cause if she did not. 

* ❖ ❖ * * ❖ * 

Once during the five years, when he opened the 
door of his private room, and scanned the faces of 
those waiting in the parlor, Doctor Hernando’s at- 
tention was more than usually drawn to a woman. 

She was a portly lady, with florid complexion, and 
nose with a well-developed bulb. 

Her ample proportions were well hung with 
stylish black drapery, a black bonnet folded with a 
widow’s veil surmounted a stylish twist of yellow 
hair, and she had a youthful fashion of turning her 
head. 

When Doctor Hernando swung the door open and 
said, “ Next, please,” this lady rose and went into 
the consulting room. 

Doctor Hernando held the door as she passed 
through, and for a moment after. 

Then he followed her, and pointed to a chair. 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


227 


This lady was not a stranger to Doctor Hernando. 

All Border City people knew Mrs. Richard Had- 
ley, both by sight, for since her husband’s death she 
had been much on the street; and by name, for as 
secretary of the S. P. I. P., known to the initiated as 
the Society for the Promotion of Intelligence among 
Pugs, her name was conspicuous in such weekly 
papers as gave a corner to reports of club women 
and their doings. 

And yet as a type of club woman, Mrs. Richard 
Hadley did not consider herself a success. She was 
not recognized by the representative families of 
Upper Terrace, and the whole blame of this neglect, 
she piled on the shoulders of her late lamented hus- 
band. 

In the early years of her life she had, in a dis- 
tant city, under the chaperonage of a wealthy aunt, 
figured for several seasons in society. She had re- 
ceived attention, had broken many fickle male hearts, 
and had finally ended the wholesale destruction of 
man’s tender affections by marrying a crusty, but 
wealthy, middle-aged man named Richard Hadley. 

Richard Hadley was a pioneer citizen of Border 


228 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


City, had piled up a considerable fortune, and 
still lived in a modest dwelling near Upper Terrace. 

This home Cora Browne, as Mrs. Hadley, under- 
took to have remodeled, but aside from a porch and 
a coat of paint, she had been unsuccessful. 

And this was not the least of her troubles. 
Richard Hadley, it is true, possessed money, and in 
spite of all the wild desires, intrigues, and family 
differences, he continued to possess it. 

Meantime his wife pined to make a display; 
pined to figure in Border City society, and while she 
pined, and her husband relentlessly held tight to 
his pocketbook, the two grew apart until after a few 
years the best they could do was to disagree without 
resort to force of arms. 

Then Richard Hadley considerately died, and his 
widow wept hysterically over his coffin and called 
him back. But even before the funeral bills were 
paid she was planning how the house should be re- 
modeled, thankful that at last the time had come 
when her husband’s wealth could be turned into 
good usage and she could get into society once again. 

It was something of a blow to her to discover, 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


229 


when the will was made known, that she had been 
cut off with the least sum the law allowed her, hut 
even this amount was enough to make consider- 
able display with, and as the will was not made 
public, society looked upon her as a woman vastly 
wealthy. 

So Mrs. Eichard Hadley was greatly respected. 

She remodeled the house; had the walls artistic- 
ally hung and the floors carpeted with up-to-date 
floor stuffs. She purchased a swell trap, drove a good 
horse, and her dresses were made by the best modiste 
in Border City. 

Her first advance in society was made when she 
was elected secretary of the S. P. I. P., this being a 
most exclusive society, but after this move there 
seemed to be a distressing halt in her progress, for 
while society women composed the club, and were 
social at its meetings, they did not take Mrs. Eichard 
Hadley to their homes with open arms, as she had 
hoped they would. 

There were a number of men in the city who 
would gladly have shared the fate and fortune of the 
widow, but of those eligible, not one did she know 


230 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


whose name on her card would open the doors of 
society for her, so the eligible men were not to be 
considered. 

Cornelius Mansfield was not, strictly speaking, 
eligible; still, with a hope something akin to de- 
spair, Cora Hadley thought of him, and after her 
lamented husband had been dead a suitable length 
of time, she took Mr. Mansfield driving in her dash- 
ing turnout, where he exchanged dainty compli- 
ments with her. 

She had no means of knowing that these same 
delicate compliments were repeated for their pleas- 
ure to Mr. Mansfield’s friends, and that in such con- 
versations he invariably referred to her as the a fat 
Hadley.” 

When she had been a widow something over a 
year, it occurred to her that Doctor Hernando was 
the eligible man for which she looked. 

The thought came with such sudden force that it 
nearly took her breath. 

Why had she not thought of it before? 

Society was ready to receive him with open arms. 

As his wife, no door would be barred. He was 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


231 


president of the State Board of Physicians; was on 
two public committees ; had the best instruments and 
the most exclusive practice of any surgeon in the 
city, and when she had known him in bygone years, 
he had been the most susceptible of all her many 
lovers. 

A thought of him as he was then brought a rip- 
pling smile over her chubby face. 

The thought had come well. 

Taking from her jewel-box a ring, long since out- 
grown, she tried to wedge it on her third finger, and 
compromised by squeezing it on her little finger. 

She was sorry she was fat. 

Then she made a handsome toilet, with unusual 
care, and in her dashing trap went to Doctor Her- 
nando’s office, to consult him professionally. 

With some misgivings, she waited his summons 
in the parlor, and for a moment was silent when she 
stood face to face with him in the inner room. 

“ Doctor Hernando,” she said, sweetly, “ I am 
Mrs. Hadley.” 

“ Mrs. Hadley,” he repeated, with a dignified 


bow. 


232 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


She looked at him with a half-sad smile and a 
droop of her eye. 

“ You do not remember me,” she said, with an 
affected touch of melancholy. “ You once knew me 
by the name of Cora Browne. I have not outgrown 
the memories of those sunny days,” and she sighed, 
at the same time moving her hand so that he could 
not miss the sparkle of the ring. 

“ Will you be seated,” he said. 

She dropped into a chair. 

“ I have come,” she said, slowly, as if approach- 
ing a painful subject, “ to have you examine my 
hand. I am alarmed about it, perhaps with small 
reason, but my dear aunt died with a cancer, after 
years of suffering, and the mere thought of a fate 
so terrible warns me to take every precaution. Her 
last days were terrible — her pain was excruciating, 
and though she bore her agony with great fortitude, 

her misery haunts me yet. See ” and she held 

out her hand and pointed to a small spot on the in- 
side of her second finger. 

As a rule, Doctor Hernando held a patient’s hand 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


233 


in his when examining a suspected cancerous affec- 
tion, but on this occasion he folded his hands behind 
him, and bending over the extended hand, knit his 
eyebrows. 

"You have a wart/’ he announced, concluding 
the examination. 

" Only a wart ? ” she exclaimed, raising her eyes 
to his face. 

" Only a wart.” 

She paused, looking a bit confused. 

" But even warts are a great inconvenience when 
one must write a great deal. What shall I do to 
cure the wart? ” 

" Get five cents worth of acetic acid, and apply it 
three times a day with a toothpick.” 

A shade more of color than was natural came into 
her face. 

"Isn’t this an unusual prescription?” 

" This is an unusual case.” 

She dropped her eyes to her hand, and looked at 
it steadily a few seconds. 

" You are quite sure, Doctor Hernando, that this 
will not cause me any serious trouble ? ” and again 


234 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 



she lifted her eyes with their most appealing glance 
to his face. 

“ I have yet to write on my first death certificate, 
‘ Died of a wart/ ” 

“ How your words relieve me,” and she drew out 
her purse. 

“What do I owe you?” 

“ Three dollars.” 

She handed him the amount, and rose. 

Doctor Hernando stepped to the door, opened it 
gallantty, and bowed as she crossed the threshold. 

After this attempt, Mrs. Richard Hadley decided 
that Doctor Hernando was not eligible, and she cast 
her eyes in other directions, keeping Cornelius 
Mansfield in sight, for she had heard some small 
talk of his being a candidate for senator, and a posi- 
tion as senator’s wife was of all things to be desired. 

After receiving the information that little Telsa’s 


frail body was at times the habitation of some power- 
ful spirit from the sixth realm, Dariah Plunkett 


paid her a homage which would have amused an un- 


derstanding person, but which almost bewildered 



TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


235 


Mignon, for no one had ever seemed to love her 
child. 

This old man wanted her often by his bench; he 
told her stories; he let her have his cat; he made 
rude toys, and rarely left his shop without bringing 
her back a cake or bit of fruit, in this way brighten- 
ing the tedious hours of her life. 

Mignon, over-cautious, at first objected, but at 
last could not withstand the child’s pleadings to visit 
with “ Uncle Dariah,” and at last she came to trust 
the child with him when she went out to collect or 
deliver work, and glad indeed she was to have some 
one with whom to leave little Telsa, for she was 
growing so much like her father in features, that 
Mignon disliked to take her on the streets. 

Mignon was never out at night now. If she had 
not been afraid, she would not have left the child, 
for it was at dusk that the spells came, and their in- 
creasing frequency added a burden to her heart, for 
it seemed that instead of outgrowing the malady, 
whatever it was, it was gradually wearing the child’s 
strength away, as after each violent attack she 
seemed weaker. 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


236 


One sunny afternoon, Dariah Plunkett proposed 
to Telsa that they take a walk, and as this was a 
pleasure that seldom came into her life, she ran 
eagerly to her mother for permission. 

Mignon did not want Telsa to go, hut after much 
pleading and many promises from both the old man 
and the child, they started out. 

With her little hand in his, they strolled along 
the streets, around the winding way of Black Hill, 
down the road toward Sandtown, and out across the 
mill rubbish toward the beach. 

When half way across the sawdust and litter, they 
stopped to rest, and Dariah sat with Telsa on his 
knee, when two men approaching, drew his atten- 
tion. 

They were walking down a narrow tramway, and 
were engaged in conversation. 

“W-would you 1-like to s-s-see your father?” 
Dariah questioned, looking at the approaching men. 

“ If I had one.” 

“ That’s him,” and he pointed in the direction of 
the two men. 


“Which?” said the child, eagerly. 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


237 


“ The one w-with the s-s-shiny hat on.” 

Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the 
child was down from his knee and away. 

“ C-come back! C-come back! ” he shouted, 
starting after her. 

But she was fleet-footed, and running along the 
track, was soon close behind the two men, clutching 
at Mansfield’s coat-tail, which after a few attempts 
she caught. 

He halted suddenly, and looked around, and while 
he paused she caught hold of his gloved hand. 

“ Are you my father? ” she cried. 

He drew his hand quickly away. 

“ Who said I was? ” he questioned. 

“ Are you? ” she repeated. 

“ No.” 

She looked up in his face, a strange, wondering 
expression in her eyes, so like his own. 

“ I didn’t think you were,” and there was a touch 
of disappointment in her voice. 

The man with Mansfield laughed. 

“ Did your mother send you here?” the child’s 
father inquired. 


238 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


She still studied his face, as if she would divine a 
mystery. 

“ Did you ever see my mother? ” she inquired, 
gravely. 

“ No,” he answered again. 

“ She does not look like you,” and the child gave 
him a last, lingering look, and turned away. 

Her cloak was shabby; her shoes were worn, and 
her hands were bare. Perhaps something of the 
pathos of the occurrence touched Mansfield. 

He thrust his hand in his pocket, and drew out 
a silver dollar. 

“ Here,” he cried, throwing it after her. 

She turned swiftly, watched where it fell, then, 
quick as a flash, she pounced on it, and with all her 
small force, threw it back at him. 

“ That’s money, you little fool,” Mansfield ex- 
claimed, with both astonishment and vexation. 

“You threw it at me,” the child called back at 
him. 

“Come and get it,” he said, holding it toward 
her on the tips of his fingers; but by this time 
Dariah Plunkett had arrived, and Telsa hurried 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


239 


away with him, looking back every few steps at the 
figures of the retreating men. 

******* 

A few days after this, Mignon was surprised, on 
returning home from a trip in the city, to find a box 
at her door. 

There was nothing on it to tell where it had come 
from, and as it was plainly addressed to her, she 
took it into her room and opened it. 

The box contained a handsome cloak, bonnet, and 
gloves for a child, and some woman’s dainty under- 
wear. 

A flush came into her face and a flash to her 
eyes, as these latter garments came to view. 

With hands trembling with indignation, she 
placed them back in the box, folding the handsome 
cloak carefully, thankful that Telsa was not there 
to tease for it. 

On putting the bonnet back in the box, she dis- 
covered a note pinned on it. 

The handwriting was familiar. 

The words were characteristic. 


240 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ Your child lives like a beggar. Will a Christian 
make a child suffer to carry out a whim?” 

As she held the paper, the red spots deepened on 
her cheeks, and for a moment a sense of suffocation 
nearly overcame her, but she closed her eyes, and 
when she opened them a moment later, the hurt of 
the insult without the shock showed itself in the 
rims of water that made them bright. 

After putting every article in the box as it had 
been taken out, she closed it, turned the wrapping 
paper, tied it with the string that had come around 
it, and then went with the bundle to Dariah Plun- 
kett. 

“Do you know Mr. Mansfield?” she inquired. 

“That wears a t-tall hat?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ S-sure,” and Dariah opened his mouth to say 
more, but something in the woman’s face stopped 
the words. 

“ Will you find him, and deliver this package for 
me? Be sure and put it in his hand. It is his. It 
has been brought here by mistake, and must be re- 
turned at once.” 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


241 


“S-sure ? b-by goll,” and he put his tools aside, 
and shambled off with the package. 

******* 

After delivering it, he paid a short call on Doctor 
Hernando, and told him of the occurrence, and for 
the first time in his acquaintance with the Doctor, 
he had the privilege of seeing him angry. 

“ You showed this man to the child, telling her 
he was her father?” 

Dariah Plunkett’s chin worked rapidly. 

“ I t-thought — I ” 

“You are a fool,” said Doctor Hernando, with 
emphasis. 

“ But s-s-sometimes a c-child c-can b-bring a man 
to t-taw.” 

“ Who wants a man brought to taw? ” 

“ But h-he’s her f-father, and he d-denies it.” 

“Let him deny it.” 

“ But the c-child believes h-him.” 

“ Let the child believe him, for he is not, nor 
ever has been, a father to her, and you are a fool. 
Here this woman has been for seven of God’s longest 
years living down her sin of a misplaced faith, and 


242 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


you come along and by one idiotic move, invite a 
repetition of the whole trouble. I say you are a 
fool.” 

Dariah Plunkett made no denial of the charge. 
His chin worked convulsively, and Doctor Hernando 
swung his glasses nervously, at the end of three 
inches of black cord. 

“ What did he say when you gave him the box? ” 
Doctor Hernando inquired, after an unpleasant 
silence. 

“ S-s-said he’d have me arrested f-for s-s-stealing 
a lady’s package.” 

“ Suppose he does? ” 

Dariah Plunkett relieved himself by laughing. 

“ He w-won’t. I s-s-shuck my fist under his 
n-nose, and I s-s-says, ‘ B-by goll, have me a-arrested, 
but hold it in y-your mind that I’m a w-witness. I 
didn’t hang onto the b-boards up bank for a s-s-solid 
hour the night you s-s-swore by God to m-marry the 
girl in the b-boat, I didn’t hang there with my 
f-fingers in my ears.” 

Doctor Hernando’s face relaxed. 

“What did he say?” 


TELSA SEES HER FATHER. 


243 


“ He said, ‘ Go to hell/ ” 

Doctor Hernando smiled. 

“Very good advice,” he said, “ but stay with us 
yet a little longer, and look after the child’s mother. 
If anything happens, drop around and mention it. 
I am the lady’s physician.” 

“ Poor veery! ” and Dariah shook his head, sol- 
emnly. “ She’ll need doctoring some day. Her ma- 
chine runs half the night, and her fingers are pricked 
through. Poor v-veery! ” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

MADAM GISELLE BLAUVET. 

Border City had so long gone without a public 
exhibition of spiritual phenomena that it created 
some surprise when hills announcing such an event 
were fluttered indiscriminately into the yards of 
both Sandtown hovels and Upper Terrace mansions; 
but in no one bosom was more enthusiasm inspired 
by this announcement than in that heaving under 
the musty coat of Dariah Plunkett. 

He held the yellow handbill at a correct distance 
and laboriously read it from beginning to end; then 
he lifted his eyes to the top, and beheld with fresh 
wonderment the rather blurred features of the face 
with the wondrous star over the head, and the 
equally wondrous name, “ Madam G’Selle Blauvet,” 
underneath. 

He adjusted the paper at a slightly different 
angle, and read it a second time, his chin galloping 

up and down, delightfully. 

244 


MADAM G’SELLE BLAUVET. 


245 


Even after a second reading, he seemed in some 
way to donbt the accuracy of his faculties, and he 
prepared to read it again. 

This time he arose and held the bill at arm’s 
length. 

The third reading tallied with the first. It was 
indeed true that the great and only Madam G’Selle 
Blauvet would hold a public performance, two days 
later, in the Opera House, at which time departed 
spirits would communicate with their friends, would 
materialize, and would in general perform wonders 
to convince the most skeptical. 

Dariah Plunkett looked long at the face of the 
woman with the crooked-tailed star overhead, then 
he folded the paper, and placed it carefully, deep in 
his inside pocket. 

By a remarkable secret, known only to spirits and 
those having charge of the subscription lists of 
papers, Madam G-’Selle Blauvet knew just which 
house-door to rap at to find a kindred spirit when 
she arrived in Border City. 

True, her luggage was taken to a hotel, and here 
she received such inquiring minds as wished to take 


24G 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


advantage of her offer to learn of their future, and 
incidentally to lighten their purses; hut there had 
been of late so much irrelevant conduct at public 
exhibitions, that Madam G’Selle Blauvet deemed it 
wise to consult with a few local believers before the 
public exhibition. 

At a recent meeting, during the semi-darkness, 
when the spirits were circulating freely among sur- 
viving friends, and just after one woman had ex- 
claimed, with sobs of joy, “ It is George! 0, it is, 
it is,” some ungodly wretch had suddenly laid hold 
of George’s lower garment, when a scream like a 
cat’s, or a woman’s, rent the air; a struggle ensued, 
during which a second ungodly person dispelled 
the “ semi-darkness,” when lo, the materialized 
“ George ” proved to be a woman of well-developed 
anatomy and some lungs. 

This altogether unprecedented circumstance had 
cast a damper on the meeting, and the hypnotizing 
that followed had not been well received. 

From her earliest existence, Madam G’Selle 
Blauvet had been learning wisdom’s lesson at the 
expense of other people’s experiences. 


MADAM G’SELLE BLAUVET. 


247 


She had not attained her present exalted position 
as supreme mind-reader and spiritual medium, ex- 
cept by a long and tedious course. 

There had been a time when no spiritual vision 
reached her. 

At that time she made hair switches in the “ back 
room, third,” of a dingy business-house in a metro- 
politan city. 

Indeed, she had had no vision of spirits until 
after meeting her “ affinity,” but the “ affinity ” 
once having materialized, all other things followed, 
so that by the time the lady who had formerly made 
hair-switches, and the “ affinity ” who had discov- 
ered her, had toured two seasons together in a sec- 
ond-rate show, she had learned enough to leave him, 
while she went out to star for herself. 

The best-informed of the spirit fraternity in Bor- 
der City lived in Sandtown, and took three different 
papers, and as it happened, this was the man on 
whom Madam G’Selle Blauvet, the great and only, 
condescended to call on business. 

The visit was short, but interesting and satisfac- 


248 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


tory, for she quitted the cottage with a carefully- 
prepared list of possible helpers. 

Leaving the Sandtown standard-bearer over- 
whelmed with pride and nearly awed by the magni- 
tude of his importance, she turned in another direc- 
tion. 

Knowing nothing of this, Dariah Plunkett on 
answering a knock at his door the day preceding 
that of the performance, was somewhat surprised to 
usher into his humble room a pompous and most 
elegantly-dressed lady. 

He stared a moment, but not recognizing in the 
rather heavy-browed woman anything of the fairy 
features of the blurred face under the star, he 
was able to stand securely on his legs and bid her 
enter. 

Once inside, she extended her bare hand, and 
grasping his horny hand, held it with a sort of 
squeezing pressure peculiar to great mediums. 

“ I am Madam G’Selle Blauvet,” she said, with 
her eyes fastened on his, and her pressure firm on his 
hand. 

Dariah Plunkett gave a start, and trembled vio- 


MADAM G’SELLE BLAUVET. 


249 


lently, but an added pressure of the hand reassured 
him. 

“I am to give an exhibition of my great and 
supernatural skill to-morrow night. Have you seen 
the bills?” 

She dropped his hand gently, rather laid it aside, 
and with a steady eye watched him fumble in his 
pocket. 

When he drew out the yellow bill, his hand 
trembled, but he finally got it unfolded, and handed 
it to her. 

She glanced at it, made a bow, and bestowed on 
the well-nigh bewildered Dariah a bewitching smile. 

Dariah Plunkett was overwhelmed with her kind- 
ness, and his own importance. This was an occasion 
of even greater moment than when fate had made 
him into a witness. 

“My feats are almost too wonderful to believe,” 
she said, smacking her lips gently, as if enjoying 
the lingering taste of some good thing. 

“ Besides the phenomena of disembodied spirits, 
I read the mind of man as if it were writ on the sky, 
and my hypnotic powers have no equal. I have been 


250 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


referred to you as a man interested in science, and 
most willing to aid in the spread of light and truth. 
You are aware that there are in every community 
skeptical and evil-hearted persons, whose brains are 
not of sufficient quantity or quality to render them 
susceptible to my powers. These persons take de- 
light in pressing to the front in public meetings, 
causing a waste of time, and at last declaring me and 
my methods fraudulent. In short, they delight to 
work confusion. For this reason, it is a duty I owe 
an intelligent public, as well as myself, to be sure of 
my subjects. 

“ This will save much valuable time for other 
manifestations, and will stop the tongues of those 
evil-minded and ignorant persons who would other- 
wise cause our undoing. Do you understand ? ” 

Dariah Plunkett’s chin worked, and he nodded 
his head. 

Madam G’Selle Blauvet watched him closely. 

“ Were you ever under hypnotic power, in a 
trance, or mesmerized ? 99 

His mouth shaped itself, his chin wiggled, but he 
only shook his head. 


MADAM G’SELLE BLAUVET. 


251 


“ If I shall find that you are a good subject, will 
you go on the stage for me? I will pay you.” 

Again Dariah Plunkett tried to speak, but only 
succeeded in nodding his head, this time more 
feebly. 

“Very well,” the lady said, moving a step nearer, 
and raising her hand slowly, without once taking her 
eyes from his face. 

“ Look at me! ” 

Her command was unnecessary. It would have 
been impossible for Dariah Plunkett to move 
his eyes a hair’s breadth. They were literally fas- 
tened by the glitter of Madam’s small, dark eye. His 
chin grew quiet, and when he presently began to talk 
volubly, it remained still. 

Evidently his remarks interested his listener, for 
she smiled. 

“ I expect,” she said, thoughtfully, when she had 
moved away from before him, and his chin had re- 
sumed normal motions, “I expect you can ren- 
der me service. Can I depend on you to-morrow 
night? ” 

“ S-s-sure.” 


252 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


From a jeweled chatelaine she took a ticket, 
which she handed him. 

“ Present this ticket at the door. Sit midway, 
and when I call for volunteers, come forward. You 
need not say you have seen me before. Do not for- 
get." 

“ Y-yes’m. N-no’m,” he answered to her re- 
marks, then he watched her go out the door. 

When she left his door, she turned toward the 
outer stairs, but her walk in this direction was short. 

No sooner did she hear the rapid strokes of Dariah 
Plunkett’s hammer, than she retraced her steps and 
tapped softly at Mignon’s room. 

Mignon, on answering the knock, was as much 
surprised as Dariah Plunkett had been, but she had 
no carefully-folded handbill, and would not have 
recognized the lady if she had, for they were not 
kindred spirits. 

This the visitor evidently judged, so she men- 
tioned no name, but held Mignon’s hand in her cus- 
tomary close grasp until Mignon seemed to feel the 
thrill of it, and rather pulled her hand to be free. 


MADAM G.’SELLE BLAUVET. 


253 


“ I am a medium,” said the visitor, “ and 1 have 
come to you with a message from your mother, who 
is in the sixth circle of happy spirits.” 

Mignon invited her to be seated, but said rather 
coldly. 

“ I do not believe in spiritism.” 

“ Many do not,” Madam G’Selle Blauvet said, 
sweetly. “ I am often misunderstood, still when the 
message comes, as it has come to me for you, I can 
do no less than deliver it.” 

“ I do not believe in messages.” 

“ So the spirit of your mother informs me, but 
listen : I do not know you, not even your name, only 
from your mother’s spirit, but I have been directed 
to your very door. Whether the message be true or 
not, I cannot say. I only speak as I am bidden.” 

“ Why should I believe that my mother has ever 
heard of you or knows anything of me? ” 

Madam G’Selle Blauvet smiled, sweetly. 

“ Your mother has instructed me to speak to you 
of an occurrence which she says will prove to you 
that she sends the message, inasmuch as this occur- 
rence relates to a most private meeting, which she 


254 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


could not have been present at, had she been in the 
flesh, instead of in the spirit.” 

“ What is the meeting to which you refer? ” 
Mignon asked the question quietly, but an uneasy 
feeling had taken possession of her, under the 
strange light of the woman’s eyes. 

“ Your mother knows you have been betrayed by 
a man, a man who wears a tall hat and speaks 
smoothly. • She also knows and rejoices that you 
have not erred meaningly, for the man made many 
promises, and the night in the boat the promise was 
so sacred and so solemnly sworn to before Almighty 
God that one of the elect might have been deceived 
thereby. Your mother, hovering around you in the 
spirit, heard this oath. It lingers yet in her mind, 
so that she told it to me, word for word. This is 
the occurrence of which she instructed me to speak. 
Shall I repeat the words of the oath? ” 

Mignon sat during the speech with her eyes fas- 
tened on the woman’s face, her own as colorless as 
her white hands. 

“ Y ou need not repeat it,” she said, her conster- 
nation being evident. 


MADAM G’SELLE BLAUVET. 


255 


“ I see you are convinced that my message is a 
genuine one from your mother, who longs to he of 
use to you. You have had a hard time, and your 
child ” 

“Do you know anything about my child?” Mig- 
non interrupted, sharply. 

“ In the spirit world all things are known. I 
know nothing.” 

“ What was my mother’s message regarding the 
child? ” 

“ In her words, she said, ‘ Tell my beloved daugh- 
ter to do a mother’s part by the child, as I direct 
her. The child’s mother — my poor child — cannot 
battle with the world and come out victor. The 
world will crush her. I have long been with my 
daughter, but she has not recognized me, for I can- 
not speak with human tongue; but with a power not 
earthly I demonstrate my willingness to held them 
both. The mother mistakes this for a disease, or a 
sin, knowing me not. Go to my beloved child, say 
to her that this is God’s will : The child must mani- 
fest this power to the world. The world will gladly 
give the child her dues, will put in the mother’s 


256 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


hand money, so that the child will no more want for 
anything. Hasten to my beloved daughter/ ” 

The medium had, during the recital of the mes- 
sage, relapsed into a sort of chanting speech, leaning 
sideways in her chair, with her eyes partly closed. 

Mignon sat spellbound, and it was not until the 
woman had fully roused herself that she spoke. 

“ Do I owe you anything?” she inquired, fearing 
that perhaps the woman would trouble her for a fee. 

Madam G’Selle Blauvet looked at her hostess 
sadly, and leaning forward, again took her hand. 

“ Owe me anything? ” she said, in a strangely sad 
voice. “ Do not mention it. I, too, have had trouble. 
What I do, I do freely. I have only been a mouth- 
piece for your mother’s spirit. I know nothing, but 
tell me, has your mother’s message been of benefit 
to you?” 

“ Time will prove if it has.” 

Mignon shaded her eyes with her hand. She was 
sorely perplexed. 

“ If my mother loves me,” she said, looking up, 
“she should have brought the message to me, and 
not have given it to another, a stranger.” 


MADAM G’SELLE BLAU VET. 


257 


“ She has tried; but you have not been suscep- 
tible.” 

Mignon glanced at her visitor. 

She was bulky, and rather raw-appearing, hut of 
such are those susceptible of spiritual influences, 
and Mignon being frail and rather spirituelle, was 
not susceptible, so, without disputing the fact, she 
sighed. 

The lady moved as far as the door, and then 
paused, with her hand on the knob. 

“ As a renowned medium, I give an exhibition to- 
morrow night in the Opera House. My programme- 
time is full, but if you choose to take your mother’s 
advice, in other words, if you choose to let your 
mother help you to better times through the body 
of your child, I will announce the fact, and will give 
you a quarter of the net proceeds, which, I assure 
you, will be a sum not to he despised, as my pro- 
gramme draws crowds, appealing as it does, to rea- 
son, heart, and soul. After this first meeting, we can 
arrange to travel, which will be of benefit to you. 
Consider my proposition, in behalf of your sainted 
mother, and because of the bond of sorrow that 


258 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


should unite all women. I will call early to-morrow 
morning, hoping to receive a favorable decision,” 
and with a smile, she left the room. 

When the door had closed behind her, Mignon 
threw her arms around the child, who had been 
standing by, and resting her head against the frail 
little shoulder, she burst into tears. 

The child clasped her arms around her mother’s 
neck, and after waiting a few moments, said sol- 
emnly, “ Are you crying about spirits? ” 

Mignon did not answer. 

“ What is a spirit? ” 

No answer. 

“ Is my grandmother’s spirit too big for me ? ” 
and asking kindred questions, the child babbled on, 
at times growing impatient, but Mignon was too dis- 
tracted to answer. 

The one great question in her mind was, what did 
it mean? 

She had never believed in spiritism, yet here was 
a message from the lips of an utter stranger, and the 
stranger had told her such things as had happened 


MADAM G’SELLE BLAUVET. 


259 


years before, and she was sure were known only to 
herself and Cornelius Mansfield. 

Suddenly, Mignon pushed the child aside, and 
after looking at the clock, put her work away, and 
began a hurried preparation for going out. 

This time little Telsa was to go. 
******* 

Doctor Hernando’s office hours were nearly over. 

An unusual number of patients had swarmed his 
waiting-room, and it was with a sigh of relief that 
he saw the number dwindle down until but one pa- 
tient, a woman with a cock feather in her hat, re- 
mained. 

When he opened the door to usher into his inner 
office this last woman, he noticed, to his annoyance, 
that a late-comer had entered, and waited with a 
child beside her. 

He lowered his head, fastened his close gaze for a 
second on the new-comer, then followed the woman 
who had just passed into the consulting room. 

His weariness suddenly disappeared. 

He inquired with the utmost care of the condi- 


260 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


tions and symptoms peculiar to the patient under 
examination. 

He forgot that office hours were almost up. He 
forgot that the horse tied in front of the office was 
a horse that pawed the curbing when time passed 
slow — he forgot many things in the joy he would not 
have admitted, of seeing once more a sad-faced, 
beautiful woman, whom he had seen in the last five 
years scarce half a dozen times. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

MIGNON CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO. 

When the woman with the aggressive cock feather 
on her hat had entered a full list of her complaints, 
and had received professional advice in proportion, 
she was politely shown from the room, and Doctor 
Hernando bowed to Mignon. 

“ Will you leave the child?” he questioned, and 
on receiving reply that she would, he gave the little 
girl a pile of magazines to look at, and led the way 
back into the consulting-room. 

“ Will you count this a professional visit?” Mig- 
non inquired. “ It may seem out of the usual order, 
but I should not have come had I known what else 
to do.” 

In answer to the first question, Doctor Hernando 
bowed; in answer to the second, he said, "I did not 
expect you would.” 

Then he adjusted his eyes squarely on her face, 
and waited. 


261 


2G2 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


After a moment’s hesitation, as if it cost her 
something of an effort and she would the sooner have 
it over, Mignon raised her clear grey eyes to meet 
those of Doctor Hernando’s, wrinkled behind his 
glasses, and made him a longer and more confiden- 
tial speech than he had expected. 

“ They say integrity is its own pay. Where is the 
pay, if it takes the strength of life itself to secure 
honesty, to find, after obtaining it, that the honest 
man forever turns away? Would honor, empty 
honor, ever pay a woman for the pain it costs her to 
see her child suffer want, and hear it beg for things 
she has no power to give it, unless she lets her 
honor go? Ho, no. My love of honor for honor’s 
sake alone, could not survive the pleading of my 
child — the pain it costs to refuse her — for I love her 
more than I love honor. But honesty and honor are 
the necessary outcome of the life I am trying to live, 
and which I must live, if I hope for a reward in the 
life beyond the grave. If it were not for this, that 
there is a God before whose bar I must some day 
stand, would I live another week as I have lived for 
seven years — hearing my child cry, and seeing her 


MIGNON CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO. 263 


grow pale? Not for one week. I would forget my- 
self. I would close my eyes to the future that may 
never come, and take what comfort I could from the 
present. But the hope, the faith in something better 
farther on, is a part of my religion, and it is those 
who have made shipwreck of their lives who most 
need religion. If it had not been that Mother Shep- 
hard, dear kind Mother Shephard, had told me of 
Christ and His everlasting love, I should long ago 
have gone to try the rest of the grave. But on this 
pivotal point, the love of Christ, my life hinges. 
This bears me up, and helps me on — blindly, but on. 
But now I find myself in doubt as to my duty. A 
way seems to have opened by which my life may be 
changed for the better, and yet — I do not know; I 
am afraid it means that I must abandon the pivotal 
point on which my life rests, and I am afraid to do 
this. You are wise,' you understand strange phe- 
nomena that would confuse one ignorant like me. 
You know what psychology means, and I have only 
heard the word, and the limits of hypnotism you can 

explain. Tell me ” and she leaned forward 

eagerly, in her chair, “ do you believe in spiritism? 


264 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Are all mediums frauds? How do they sometimes 
know what none has ever told? ” 

Doctor Hernando slipped his glasses from his 
nose, and turned them over his thumb. 

“ Nine-tenths of so-called spiritistic mediums are 
frauds, pure and simple.” 

“And the other tenth?” Mignon inquired, 
anxiously. 

“ Our fathers would have answered this question 
by denying the facts, charging the mediums with 
fraud or — accepting the tenability of the spiritual 
hypothesis; but we are wiser than our fathers, in 
that science has made longer strides. We can now 
admit the honesty of the medium, his honest convic- 
tion that the communications are what they purport 
to be, and also that the medium is unconscious of 
possessing any psychological power that would ren- 
der unconscious participation possible. We can ad- 
mit almost all the claims made by the spiritist, and 
still have no difficulty in finding a solution for all 
that is mysterious in the phenomena, in the prin- 
ciples of Natural Law, for most phases of spiritistic 
phenomena are solved by the Law of Suggestion, 


MIGNON CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO. 265 


discovered a few years ago by European scientists in 
their investigations of the problems of hypnotism. 
In fact, so much study has been given to this sub- 
ject by not only scientists, but by the average stu- 
dent, that the phrases, ‘ secondary personality/ 
‘ subliminal consciousness/ ‘ sub-conscious mind/ 
‘ subjective mind/ etc., are everywhere discussed, 
and telepathy is becoming more and more under- 
stood. 

“ The greater number of purported spirit messages 
are undoubtedly drawn from the mind of the medium, 
though the incidents may have long since been for- 
gotten, for what has once gone into the mind may 
again come out. Science and spiritism agree well 
enough the greater part of the way, and even at the 
diverging line science propounds a question which 
as yet spiritists have left unanswered. 

“ Science denies the right of searching in super- 
mundane realms for causes that can be traced to 
Natural Law. Have I made my views clear? ” 

“ I think you do not believe in spiritism — that de- 
parted spirits return to warn their friends, or to help 


them/’ 


266 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ I do not think they do.” 

Mignon was silent a moment. She changed her 
position just a little, and looked out the window, 
conscious that Doctor Hernando’s eyes were still on 
her. 

“ At any rate,” he added, “ keep to the pivot your 
life has revolved around the last seven years.” 

“ If I do, I must not accept an attractive propo- 
sition to better my child’s life ; I must stay with the 
needle and the bare floor, for the pivot that my life 
swings on is the love of Christ, and spiritists smile 
at such simplicity. If I only knew,” and Mignon 
let the suspicion of a sigh escape her lips. 

“ Are you sure,” she inquired, again looking to- 
ward Doctor Hernando, “ that all things can be ex- 
plained ? ” 

“For instance?” 

“ For instance, a case where a stranger came with 
a message — but I will tell you. To-day a woman 
came to me, a medium, with a message from my 
mother. She told me things she surely had no 
knowledge of. I have never been hypnotized, and 
she could not have read the things she spoke of in 


MIGNON CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO. 267 


my mind, for at the time of her visit they were not 
there to read. She could not have discovered them 
from another’s mind, for no other knows — save one. 
These things, the strange medium said she had 
learned from my mother’s spirit. How else could 
she have learned them? ” 

“ What did she charge for her information ? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ And had no requests to make — no favors to 
ask?” 

“None; only she suggested that I let my child 
come to her performance, to give an exhibition of the 
peculiar power that controls her while she has 
her spells.” 

“ What peculiar power does the child possess that 
a strange woman could hope to make profitable?” 

“ Some strange, repellant power that drives such 
material as wood, fabrics, and crockery, from her 
with such force that it is useless to try to hold an 
article when she touches it. Long ago, by the merest 
accident, I discovered that she could be compara- 
tively comfortable on an old cork life-preserver, 
which I made into a cushion. She has had these 


268 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


spells for several years, but they have lately grown 
on her. The medium says they are caused by the 
spirit of my mother, who controls the movements of 
my child, and that it is my mother’s wish that I 
should let the public see the child’s power, so that 
our life will be easier. For myself, I had rather go 
to prison than to be brought before the public, and 
for the child’s sake, I had rather be dead than to 
make a wrong move after all these years; but if this 
should be true, if this peculiar power should be some- 
thing supernatural sent to the child to make her 
poor little life easier, have I a right to keep her 
back? Ought I not, even though it cost me much 
unhappiness, consent to her appearance before the 
public? Tell me, Doctor Hernando, how could the 
strange medium have told me what she did, have 
brought me the message, unless my mother’s, or 
some other spirit, instructed her? ” 

There was a tone of despair in her voice, and 
Doctor Hernando wiped his glasses carefully, before 
attempting an answer. 

“ I am really at a loss to understand more than 
half you speak of, and consequently cannot advise 


MIGNON CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO. ^69 


you with any intelligence. If you care to trust me to 
the extent of telling me something of the nature of 
the message purported to come from your mother, I 
shall he pleased to advise you, for I suspicion that 
your medium is a consummate fraud. Perhaps I 
am having the had grace to misjudge her, hut she 
had a reason for receiving the spiritual visit of your 
mother.” 

“ My mother’s message was that her spirit pos- 
sessed the child at times, and that it did so for the 
one purpose of helping us.” 

“ But you would not believe a strange medium, 
on the unsupported evidence of her own words? ” 

“ I have already told you that she did not expect 
me to. It was to establish my confidence, that my 
mother referred to a matter long since dead, and 
buried past all resurrection.” 

Doctor Hernando tapped his fingers against the 
arm of his chair, thoughtfully. 

“ I am in the dark,” he said, slowly, “ and being 
so, any further opinion I may express will be value- 
less. I should like very much to help you, for I see 
you need help. I should also take pleasure in dis- 


270 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


covering the motive of your strange medium, yet I 
cannot insist, nor even ask, that you speak more 
freely of the evidence which she has brought forward 
to establish your faith in what purports to be a com- 
munication from your mother. This I say, however, 
I am still your friend. Any confidence you may in- 
trust me with will be honorably preserved/’ 

Mignon dropped her eyes to her lap, and twisted 
her hands. 

Doctor Hernando was watching her, and her ner- 
vous motions recalled to his mind the night of his 
first meeting with her. He understood that a 
struggle was taking place in her mind. 

When she looked at him again, she found him 
waiting attentively. 

“ I am going to trust you,” she said, “ if you have 
time to listen to a broken thread of the story of a 
broken life — my life.” 

“ My time is at your command,” and it was with 
difficulty that Doctor Hernando refrained from 
smiling in pure satisfaction, as he spoke, for at the 
end of seven years, Mignon had said, “ I am going to 
trust you.” 


MIGXOX CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO. 271 


“ My father, who was an artist, married my 
mother, whose home was in the country, and took 
her to the city. He had the usual luck of an un- 
known and, I suppose, not first-class young artist, 
and made no fortune. When he died, shortly after 
my birth, he left my mother homeless and penniless. 
She then went to live at her brother’s home, 
and here she died soon after I was a year old. I 
have no picture of her, no book, or bit of jewelry, 
nothing that was my mother’s. I have not even a 
memory of her, and I am only sure I once had a 
mother because I find myself existing. 

“ With many little cousins, I grew on the wide 
farm, helping my aunt and going to school. I was 
sent to school much of the time when the others 
were allowed to stay home, for it was my uncle’s in- 
tention to make a school-teacher of me, as I was 
often told I must earn my own living as soon as I 
was old enough. But I did not want to teach school. 
I liked to sew, and make hats, and trim them, and 
was always wishing I lived in a city, where I could 
do such work in some big store. When I was seven- 
teen, I felt quite grown, and determined no longer 


272 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


to be a burden to my uncle, and I decided to start 
out in the world. My uncle protested, but it was a 
weak protest, and I knew when he gave me twenty- 
five dollars on leaving the farm, and kissed me, how 
glad he was that I was going, for he had never 
kissed me before. After arriving in town, I found 
no work until half my money had been used, and 
then my position was only that of saleswoman in the 
notion department of a great store. Here I soon be- 
came aware that my face was accounted pretty, for 
men stared rudely and spoke often to me in a way 
that you would not understand, but which shop-girls 
must get accustomed to, and I was afraid of them all, 
until one day a man came in to buy a hair brush. He 
stayed a few minutes, and spoke kindly to me. After- 
ward he came many times, and I always felt that he 
was my friend, and when, after a while, he asked 
me to be his wife, I was so happy that the world 
seemed suddenly turned into heaven. I wonder now 
that I was ever so happy, but I was, for I loved him, 
and I trusted him. With my own fingers, I made 
my wedding-dress, and then I waited for his business 
to shape itself so that we could be married. You 


MIGXON CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO. 273 


think I must have been a fool? I was, but fools do 
not know themselves fools at the time of the making, 
else there would be no fools. The last night I was 
with him, we drifted down the river in a little boat, 
and in the solitary shadows of the high bank, he 
swore a solemn oath before God that he would be 
true to me. It was not his first promise of the kind 
— it was his last. It was so quiet that the waves 
lapping on the beach sounded as if under the keel of 
the boat. There was no one near, and in the 
shadows no one could have seen who we were, if there 
had been. The next page in the story was written 
the night in the Haven, and you know the rest. 
Now, after all these years — these long, long years, a 
strange woman — a medium, comes suddenly to me, 
and tells me what was said that night in the boat, 
tells it as if she had heard it. I am certain, one 
on earth knows this. Tell me, Doctor Hernando, 
how came this woman with this knowledge?” 

Doctor Hernando was grave a moment, then he 
arose, and crossing the room, began rummaging in 
one of the drawers of his desk, dropping different 
small papers in a promiscuous heap before him. 


274 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


At last, his search was rewarded, for he left the 
desk, holding two papers, at which he squinted with 
interest. 

When he had recrossed the room, and stood close 
to Mignon’s chair, he stopped, saying, “ Some years 
ago, I was called to the deathbed of an old man, who 
claimed to be a witness to some sort of a solemn oath, 
and considering himself dying, and fearing that the 
promise might be forgotten, appointed me a deputy 
witness, and I signed a paper to such effect. This 
paper you may examine before we pass judgment on 
the medium,” and after placing the papers on Mig- 
non’s lap, he considerately left the room to try for 
a moment his luck at quieting the pawing horse. 

For a moment Mignon glanced at the queer paper, 
then she unfolded it, and read the dying testimony 
of the witness who had heard the oath — as the me- 
dium had told it to her. This document was signed 
“ Dariah Plunkett.” 

A second paper lay under the first, and this she 
read until her eye struck the signature, when she 
dropped it. 

The matter of the spirit communication was 


MIGXON CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO. 275 

cleared up, but the knowledge that Doctor Hernando 
had all the years known so much of her, astonished 
Mignon, and yet it relieved her in a way she could 
not understand. 

When Doctor Hernando returned, she handed 
him the papers. 

“ Have things cleared up any? ” 

“ I understand now, but I am sorry to find Dariah 
Plunkett has seen fit to tell his secret. I have 
counted him my friend.” 

“ It is not likely he told it. He is simple in his 
way, and I rather think your medium has practised 
a neat bit of mind-reading or hypnotism on him. 
But I can now advise you clearly. Keep to the pivot 
your life has turned on these seven years, whatever 
that may be, for the life it is shaping is worthy the 
effort. Let the medium return her communica- 
tion where she got it, and pardon me for saying that 
I am surprised that you ever thought for a moment 
of letting the child appear before a public audi- 
ence.” 

"It made me miserable to think of it, but the 
child does not mend, and her peculiar ways distress 


270 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


me. Sometimes much of my time must be spent 
with her, and if it were not for the kind old gentle- 
man who has endowed the Working Woman’s Fund, 
really I do not know what I should do, for though I 
hate to go to Mother Shephard, I am sure she knows 
I only go when I must.” 

“ Let us see the child,” and Doctor Hernando 
opened the door leading into the parlor. 

Little Telsa had fallen asleep. 

A number of the magazines had slipped to the 
floor, and the small hand that lay across an open 
volume in her lap trembled at times while they 
watched her. 

Her black hair hung around her frail face, and 
her dark lashes lay against her cheeks like two little 
strips of silken fringe. 

Doctor Hernando bent his shoulders, and studied 
her long and carefully. 

When he finally straightened up, without a word, 
Mignon’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Your child needs professional care,” Doctor 
Hernando said, shortly, for while he really enjoyed 
tears, when it was a child that cried, and he hap- 


MIGNON CONSULTS DOCTOR HERNANDO. 277 


pened along in time to get it a toy, such tears as 
these, in this especial woman’s eyes, annoyed him. 

“ I have not been able to afford the best of skill, 
and I could not think of trusting my child to any 
less, though — if,” and she glanced down at the child. 

Doctor Hernando did not wait for her to finish. 
He felt a rising fear that tears might show them- 
selves again, and he said, hurriedly, “ Do you know 
that the old gentleman who endowed the Working 
Woman’s Fund, also made provision for doctors’ 
bills? ” 

“ Mother Shephard has not mentioned it to me.” 

“ She has overlooked it.” 

“ What a good man he must be. It is such men 
who restore confidence once lost, and whom every 
working woman should honor. If I could see him, 
I should thank him; and though I never shall, I 
ask God’s blessing on him every night, for he de- 
serves it.” 

“ He should ask no better thanks than that, but 
you only think you would thank him,” Doctor Her- 
nando said, smiling. “ If you should some day dis- 
cover his identity, you would think of him ever after 


278 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


as being personally interested in you, an interest you 
do not allow, and you would straightway refuse the 
small funds that he now takes pleasure in having you 
use. Philanthropists must, of all men, be most care- 
ful to keep their names private; that is, if they are 
particular whom they help,” and again he smiled. 

But his smile was lost on Mignon, for the task of 
waking the tired child lay before her. 

Doctor Hernando’s dinner-hour w r as long passed. 
His horse pawed the curbing fretfully, and yet he 
was not impatient to have the visit at an end. He 
felt, on the other hand, that a good day’s work had 
been done; indeed, so elated was he that he proposed 
to Mignon to drive her home. 

This kind offer was declined, with thanks. 

Then he rather insisted on driving the child home 
as it was really not able to walk, but this offer was 
also declined, as graciously as a queen ever refused 
a stubborn knight, and yet with the unalterable de- 
cision of a Mede or Persian. 


CHAPTER XV. 


A TROUBLESOME NEW WOMAN. 

There lived with Mrs. Richard Hadley a half- 
sister, some twenty years her junior, named Miss 
Katie Browne. 

Miss Katie Browne was in some respects a typical 
advanced woman, her first distinguishing mark be- 
ing an air of independence that the utmost of Mrs. 
Hadley’s remonstrance and warning had been futile 
to displace. 

As stenographer for a consequential lumber firm, 
she earned a respectable salary, and considering her- 

4 

self of sound mind and good judgment, she spent, or 
rather saved, her money as she chose, and selected 
such companions and friends as she found congenial 
and deemed wise. 

In short, she was wholly unlike the one of whom 
it has been written, “ She trembled with fear at a 
frown.” 

Cora Hadley had long since proven the truth of 

this by many an unfruitful frown. 

279 


280 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Cora Hadley, at one time, entertained some vague 
hopes of using her bright-faced, ready-tongued 
young sister as a catspaw into society, and even after 
she had abandoned the notion, she secretly felt that 
the girl might have pressed her way across the boun- 
dary of the magic circle, if she had seen fit to expend 
as much energy in that direction as she had in learn- 
ing her profession and building up the interests of 
the “ Business Woman’s Club.” 

Katie Browne, after the manner of the aggressive 
new woman, considered it a part of her duty to look 
after the interests of the representative old woman, 
and with a weakness hardly accountable for, Mrs. 
Hadley, to a surprising length, let herself be looked 
after by her younger sister, especially asking her ad- 
vice when it came to furnishing a house, or matching 
shades of hat trimming, for Katie was something of 
an artist. 

When it came to a choice of companions, however, 
Mrs. Hadley saw the great deficiency in the make-up 
of the new woman, for the men and women Mrs. 
Hadley insidiously courted and worshiped at a dis- 
tance, had the effect on Katie of causing her nose to 


A TROUBLESOME NEW WOMAN. 


281 


turn up and her brain to shape sarcastic remarks, 
which her lips were quick to utter; and at mention 
of no one name were these exhibitions of disgust 
more marked than at that of Mr. Cornelius Mans- 
field. 

After he had actually called on her sister, Katie 
Browne appointed herself a committee of one to wait 
on Mrs. Richard Hadley, and give her some advice. 

This meeting took place at the breakfast table, 
where advice was often passed between the two, and 
was characteristic of Katie Browne. 

“ Cora Hadley, why have you let that man come 
here?” she inquired, pointedly, and with some em- 
phasis. 

“Why not? He is fairly good company and is 
good looking.” 

“ Good looking,” and the words were dropped 
with scorn, “ as so many pounds of steak would look 
moulded into shape and squeezed into a proper 
frock.” 

“All tastes do not run in the same groove. If 
you like clothes-pins and darning-needles, like 
them.” 


282 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Katie spread half a slice of toast, and stirred her 
coffee. 

“ I suppose,” she said, meditatively, “ you’ll get 
married again, it’s second nature for you to pine for 
a man, you need one to lean on, but Mr. Mansfield 
is not the man you want, and you couldn’t get him 
if you did; besides, you are all the way from five to 
ten years older than he is.” 

“ You talk like a child. You chew your words, 
and mix them with your toast, so that if there is any 
sense in them it goes down your throat.” 

Katie laughed, merrily. 

“ I said you were older than he is. I repeat the 
charge.” 

“ I have not a record of his age.” 

“ I had not thought of that,” and again Katie 
laughed. 

“ I said you would be taking another husband 
some day, some one to lean on, and I see now that 
you are wise not to admire the clothes-pin style. 
Such a one might not be able to sustain the weight 
of too much happiness.” 

Mrs. Hadley looked cross, and indeed it was un- 


A TROUBLESOME NEW WOMAN. 


283 


kind for Katie to refer to her growing size, for Mrs. 
Richard Hadley was not to be blamed for her pounds. 

“ And I said,” continued Katie, relentlessly, 
“ that you could not get Mr. Mansfield, if you 
wanted him, which, thank goodness, you do not.” 

“How do you know that? I had twenty-three 
proposals of marriage before I married, and expe- 
rience is worth something.” 

“We have been sparring, Cora, let us talk now, 
for I must go,” and Miss Katie consulted her watch, 
closing it with a snap. 

“ You don’t want the beefy Mr. Mansfield. Don’t 
let him come here. His reputation is — you know his 
reputation. The girls in our club hardly dare be 
seen speaking to him.” 

Mrs. Hadley arose from the table, and poking at 
her back hair, said, sweetly: 

“ Katie, do not let my intentions worry you. I 
do not intend to marry Mr. Mansfield. He is not 
what I want. He may have some money, hut so have 
others, and while I have little enough, goodness 
knows, I intend to get into congenial society when I 
marry again. Mark that, and unless Mr. Mansfield 


284 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


should get the nomination for senatorship, he would 
hardly he a fish worth baiting a hook for.” 

“ You make me sick! ” exclaimed Katie. 

“ Your slang is distressing,” retorted Cora. 

“ Do you mean to stand there and allow me to in- 
fer that if Mr. Mansfield were the proper fish, you 
would bait your matrimonial hook and angle for 
him ? ” 

“ Why not, if his name on my card, or mine on 
his, would open the doors of society to me? I most 
assuredly would angle for him — and catch him.” 

“ But, Cora Hadley, Cornelius Mansfield is not fit 
for a decent woman to speak to, let alone talk of 
marrying.” 

“ Do you know anything so very bad of him?” 
and there was little concern in Mrs. Hadley’s voice. 

“ Know anything? No, I do not know anything; 
but where there is so much smoke, there is generally 
a little fire.” 

Cora Hadley smiled. 

“ Where will you find a paragon of virtue these 
days, and what woman would want a ‘ sissy,’ if he 
were on earth? ” 


A TROUBLESOME NEW WOMAN. 


285 


Katie stood looking at her sister with severe con- 
demnation. 

“ To hear a woman — a woman, talk like that!” 
and she brought the words out slowly, between 
curled lips. 

“ You are a disgrace to your sex, Cora Hadley, 
and I hope if you find it expedient to fish for this 
man, that you get him. Your victory will be your 
punishment, and the day he comes here, I leave. I 
think a little too much of myself to lower my stand- 
ard to anywhere near his level.” 

“ You had better cool off, or you’ll explode some- 
where between here and the office, and your right- 
eous indignation is wasted, anyway, for I have no 
more use for Mr. Mansfield than I have for the 

coachman — unless ” and she paused to reflect; 

then added, “ Your estimation of his morality is 
based on hearsay. I will warrant the opinion that 
you never knew a person whose good name has been 
spoiled by an association with Mr. Mansfield, or a 
woman whose life he has wrecked, though they tell 
it on him. Wait until you prove his sins, before con- 


286 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


signing him to the bottomless pit,” and she turned 
away. 

“ The looks of him should suffice,” Katie re- 
marked, as she gathered her belongings. 

Long before she had reached her destination, all 
thoughts of Mr. Cornelius Mansfield were out of 
Katie Brown’s mind. The possibility of her sister 
ever marrying him seemed too remote to cause a 
fear. 

But the subject was brought to her mind again 
not many weeks later, by a conversation she over- 
heard. 

It happened on a Sunday afternoon, when she was 
in the back parlor, reading. 

Mrs. Hadley had been out airing herself in her 
shining trap, and had just returned, when a visitor 
was announced. 

Without being seen, Katie listened to a conversa- 
tion so unusual, she forgave herself for listening. 

“ M-Mrs. B-Bichard H-Hadley? ” a quavering 
voice inquired, and when assured that he was talking 
to the lady in question, he proceeded : “ I — I am 
P-Plunkett, P-Plunkett. I come as messenger, to 


A TROUBLESOME NEW WOMAN. 


287 


bring 111-message from the s-s-spirit of the departed, 
your d-dearly beloved h-husband.” 

“ How did you come to have the message?” Mrs. 
Hadley inquired. 

“ O-Ouijah brought it.” 

“ What, or who, is Ouijah ? ” 

“ The s-s-spirit of a s-s-squaw. S-s-she knows all 
things.” 

“ Where did she meet Mr. Hadley? ” 

“ In s-s-spirit realms.” 

“ In spirit realms?” repeated Mrs. Hadley. 
“ Well, Mr. Hadley was never fond of squaws when 
here, and I am not prepared to believe he is talking 
private matters with them on the other side.” 

There was a silence, almost painful. 

Katie put her hand over her mouth, and moved 
on tiptoe, so that she could, if possible, see the 
strange messenger. 

“What message does he send?” Mrs. Hadley at 
length inquired. 

“ H-he s-s-sends warning.” 

“ What warning — what about? ” 

“ A-bout a man.” 


288 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


"■What man?” and there was both curiosity and 
vexation in her voice. 

" He s-s-says you will know w-who he means.” 

" I think your message must be correct. He al- 
ways presumed a great deal,” and Mrs. Hadley 
showed some irritation. 

" The man w-wears a coat colored like a m-mouse, 

and his h-hat is t-tall and s-s-shiny.” 

\ 

"Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Hadley, "who says he 
does?” 

" The spirit s-s-so informs me.” 

" Well, go on. What else did the spirit say? ” 

"He s-s-sends warning. He s-s-says, * Beware! 
The man’s a s-s-snake. The veery has his heart. He 
w-will never marry a -any other.” 

" Yeery? ” she exclaimed. " Did Richard Hadley 
send this senseless message to me?” 

Dariah Plunkett gazed steadily and sadly at the 
wife of the late Richard Hadley, then said : " The 
veer} T? s a w- woman. Her h-hair is black. The c-child 
looks l-like its f-father.” 

" And did my late husband instruct you to bring 
me this mess of news?” 


A TROUBLESOME NEW WOMAN. 


289 


“ S-s-sure.” 

“ He showed his usual good sense. Thank him 
for me, and tell him to keep comfortable. I shall 
not disgrace him.” 

The words were spoken with a peculiar accent, 
not altogether pleasant, hut the mouthpiece of the 
spirit Ouijah looked immensely relieved, and after 
leaving the room, hastened home, feeling better than 
he had felt since he had, some days before, seen Mrs. 
Hadley driving with Mr. Mansfield. 

If Ouijah had been more considerate, the mes- 
sage would have the sooner been delivered, for the 
moment his eyes fell on the florid couple, rolling 
along and smiling at each other, Dariah Plunkett 
had expected some advice from the spirit of the 
woman’s departed husband. 

Not many days after the delivery of this message, 
Dariah’s thoughts were effectually diverted from the 
affairs of Mrs. Hadley by the sudden and serious ill- 
ness of little Telsa. 

For some weeks Mignon had taken the child to 
Doctor Hernando’s office, each time more effort and 
more coaxing being required, and each time found 


290 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


the child returned weaker. Her peculiar spells still 
came, and seemed to grow stronger and more ener- 
vating, until at last the child was exhausted, and a 
fever crept into her veins. 

Doctor Hernando had entered Mignon’s name on 
his book as Mrs. King, for he apprehended some no- 
toriety, though he tried to keep the matter of the 
child’s peculiar condition quiet. 

As days went by, little Telsa grew no stronger. 
Doctor Hernando came regularly, studied her 
case carefully, and finally brought other physicians 
to see her, but no one of these had ever seen a simi- 
lar case. Indeed, there were but two or three parallel 
cases known to the profession, and in making a re- 
port of the case of little Telsa, they could only say, 
“ That under peculiar conditions, the human organ- 
ism gives forth a physical power which, without 
visible instruments, lifts heavy bodies, attracts or 
repels, according to a law of polarity.”* 

As was to be expected, some little talk of the 
strange child got abroad, but owing to Doctor Her- 
nando’s strict watchfulness, the range of the talk 


* See case of Angelique Cottin. 


A TROUBLESOME NEW WOMAN. 


291 


was small, and nothing of it got into the papers. 

Among those of Mignon’s customers, who had 
sent work from time to time but whom she had not 
seen, was a certain stenographer, who was particular 
about her sewing, but who paid promptly. 

While little Telsa was sick, this lady called in 
person to get a dainty skirt, which had been much 
beruffled by hand. 

As this skirt was not quite done when she called, 
Miss Katie Browne sat by the bedside of the child, 
to wait while Mignon set the last hurried stitches. 

With her first glance at the child, Miss Browne 
had almost stopped in the middle of the floor, so 
amazed was she by the sight of a face, familiar yet 
strange, for little Telsa’s face, though wan and 
worn, yet bore the unmistakable stamp of her parent- 
age. 

After she sat down, time and again she forced 
herself to turn her attention from the child to the - 
sad-faced, beautiful mother who, with white, thin 
fingers, and stooped shoulders, set stitch after stitch 
with her gleaming needle. 

She tried to glance around the small room, neat 


292 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


and clean, but bare to painfulness; but it was no 
use, her eyes went back after each attempt to the 
little face on the pillow, at last with a perceptible 
start, for she recognized the likeness. 

Mignon, looking up, caught the expression on her 
face, and Miss Browne said, hastily, “ Your child 
looks like — like a gentleman I have seen,” hut her 
stammering explanation only made her attempt 
worse, for Mignon’s face flushed, and she dropped 
her eyes again to the nearly-completed skirt. 

Miss Katie Browne, fully understanding that she 
was undertaking a delicate task, nevertheless deter- 
mined to discover, if possible, something that would 
he of actual service to her, if it should become neces- 
sary for her at any future time to sustain charges 
preferred against Mr. Mansfield, for she now fully 
believed the substance of the message that the 
strange old man had said came from the spirit of the 
departed Richard Hadley. 

After a few seconds of an embarrassing silence, 
she looked straight across at Mignon, and said : 

“ I beg your pardon for seeming rude, but I have 
a grave reason for speaking as I do. 


A TROUBLESOME NEW WOMAN. 


293 


“ I am going to ask you a question which may 
make a difference in a woman's life. If you knew 
that the man whom this child is the exact picture of 
were paying attention to a woman, with the supposed 
intention of some time marrying her, what advice 
would you give her, if she should, in all sincerity, ask 
you of him? " 

Mignon bent over the stitches yet a moment. 

When she lifted her head, her face was white, but 
she spoke with a firmness uncommon to her way. 

“ I should say to that woman, that if she values 
happiness, or honor, or love, or life, or the hope of 
heaven, not to trust him. I would warn her with my 
last breath to beware of him, for he is false. He has 
not heard of honor — he does not know what virtue 
is: then I would ask this woman, out of pity for a 
child that has never known a father's love, and out 
of pity for a woman whose name has been spoiled 
because she trusted him, not to speak of the advice 
for which she asked." 

Miss Katie Browne sat a moment, speechless ; but 
a warm flush was gathering in her cheeks and a 
flame had already kindled in her eye. 


294 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


She arose, and paced the room, excitedly. 

Mignon was moved to pity, for she imagined she 
had grieved a woman who was trusting him. 

“ If I have jarred your trust in him, I understand 
your pain. Trust once destroyed, builds slowly, yet 
I can say no less/’ 

Miss Katie Browne stopped suddenly and faced 
Mignon. 

“ Do you for a moment think that I have trusted 
him? Not much! I have questioned you for the 
benefit of another — a woman who insists that this 
man has been misjudged — wholly misjudged.” 

Mignon turned her eyes to little Telsa, who was 
sleeping quietly. 

“ Would she believe if she should see?” she in- 
quired, softly. 

“ I doubt it,” said Miss Browne, with a peculiar 
shrug of her shoulders. “ There’s none so blind as a 
woman when she chooses to be blind.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 

On her return home with the bundle containing 
her much-beruffled skirt, Miss Katie Browne stalked 
through the house, calling, “ Cora, Cora, Cora Had- 
ley! ” and when at last a sleepy answer came from 
an upper room, she mounted the stairs, two at a 
time, and dashed into her sister’s apartment, where, 
after tossing her bundle on the bed, she ranged her- 
self in front of her sister. 

“ What’s the matter?” Mrs. Hadley inquired, 
rubbing her eyes. 

“ If you value your self-respect, or regard your 
reputation, don’t you ever be seen speaking to Mr. 
Cornelius Mansfield again,” and Miss Browne held 
her finger warningly before her sister’s face. “Don’t 
you ever let him set his foot in this house again. He 
ought to be hung! ” 

“ Is that so? ” and an irritating yawn followed the 
words. 

295 


296 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ Now, Cora Hadley,” Katie continued, warmly, 
“ let’s have no mincing matters. You are a widow, 
with a passably good name, and I hope some small 
remnant of sense left. I am no widow, and not 
angling for a fish, but Mr. Cornelius Mansfield, al- 
though wearing trousers, is not a man, he is a mon- 
strosity of some sort, and don’t you let him over your 
threshold again.” 

“ What has Mr. Mansfield done to so annoy you? ” 
and Cora Hadley spoke sweetly. “ Make yourself 
comfortable; take off your hat, and recount his 
sins.” 

“ Having just seen his child, and the woman who 
should be his wife, I don’t feel very comfortable. 
Your crazy spiritist wasn’t so far wrong, after all. 
The man’s a snake. You had better take Richard’s 
warning, if you will not mine.” 

A smile that drew her mouth down disagreeably 
at the corners, played over Mrs. Hadley’s face. 

“ Richard,” she said, “ he wouldn’t turn over his 
finger for my comfort when he was here. Do you 
suppose he would exert himself in his grave, or 
wherever he may be, in my behalf? As for the 


IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 297 


woman and the child, a woman who would admit 
such a thing, if it were true, is the woman who would 
lie, if it were not.” 

“ Cora Hadley, you shall see that child! Then 
you will not say ‘ lie/ It is the picture of him, and I 
knew it was his own when I first set eyes on it.” 

“ Very well; granted the child is his, what of it? ” 

Miss Browne stood in speechless amazement a 
moment before she repeated the words. “ What of 
it? Well, nothing, if you don’t know, hut for my 
part, I choose to associate with respectable people.” 

Mrs. Hadley laughed, sweetly. 

“ You will not make Mr. Mansfield an angelic 
sister-in-law, I fear,” she said. 

“ Don’t talk like a fool,” advised Katie, wrath- 
fully. “ If I thought there was the remotest danger 
of such a relationship, I should call a specialist in at 
once to sound your brain.” 

“ Then call your specialist, for I generally catch 
the fish I bait for, and now that Mr. Mansfield has 
been nominated for senator, without a shadow of a 
chance of defeat, he will serve my purpose well, and 
when you wish to be entertained at the capitol, you 


298 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


will forget your brother’s reputation and his multi- 
tude of shocking sins. As the wife of a senator, I 
expect to shine.” 

“ Cora Hadley, would you, for the sake of being 
a senator’s wife, for the sake of getting into what 
you call select society, marry a ” 

“ A what?” 

“ A libertine,” Miss Browne whispered, under her 
breath, watching her sister, and expecting an explo- 
sion. 

The explosion did not follow. 

Mrs. Hadley smiled as peacefully as before. 

“ I would marry anybody, Katie, my dear, to get 
where I am determined to get. You forget that men 
have many liberties denied to women. Only a puri- 
tan would let the moral character of a man worry 
her. I am not a puritan. My few winters in societjr, 
years ago, created an appetite that has lasted through 
the years, as an early taste of blood lasts a lion. I 
am now angling for a senator. I shall angle well, 
and if some dark-haired woman keeps his heart, what 
matters it? His name will be on my card. The 
other woman is not of his sort, nor of mine.” 


IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 299 


“ For which, being a decent-appearing woman, 
she is no doubt thankful.” 

Cora Hadley turned away, impatiently. 

“ Don’t talk to me of her! Do you suppose for a 
minute that Mr. Mansfield would marry such a 
woman as this one you have dug up in your rounds 
among working women? Do you suppose he would 
stoop to make such a woman his wife ? ” 

“ Why shouldn’t he, in the name of common 
sense? She is better than he is, ten times over.” 

“ Society does not see such matters as you do.” 

“No, indeed! Society is a freak. A man and a 
woman, equally guilty, stand before society, asking 
for recognition. Society says to the woman, ‘ Away,’ 
and it pushes her to foreordained destruction, and 
though she battles for years to regain a lost foothold, 
society stands ready, at all times, to push her back; 
the man, the male sinner, society takes in her lap, 
coddles him under the chin, and says, ‘ He is a man,’ 
when in truth he is a beast, and should share the fate 
of the woman, or a worse one.” 

“ And what do you propose to do about it? ” asked 
Mrs. Hadley, still unruffled. 


300 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ Listen/’ said Miss Browne, contracting her 
broWj and resting her hands on her hips. “ Listen, 
I want to tell you. I propose to go to the polls on 
next election day, and register my disapproval of 
such a man by voting for his opponent. That’s 
about all I see that a woman can do.” 

This information proved to be the bomb. 

Its explosion was evident. 

The hair brush that Mrs. Hadley had been idly 
brushing her hair with, fell from her hand, and she 
turned a horror-stricken face to her sister. 

“ Vote — you, Katie Browne — vote?” she gasped. 

“ That is what I said.” 

Mrs. Hadley sank into a chair, quite overcome. 

“ You will disgrace your sex — your name.” 

“ Maybe I will ; but if my sex must be disgraced, 
I propose it be disgraced a different way than by 
being numbered among the constituency represented 
by such a specimen of degenerate morality as Cor- 
nelius Mansfield. More than this, I propose to recite 
the tale of the other woman at the club, and I give 
you my word for it, the club will spoil their good 
names as I intend to spoil mine, almost to a woman.” 


IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 301 


Mrs. Hadley had gradually regained her compo- 
sure. 

“Very well,” she said, stooping to pick up the 
hair brush. “Joy go with you in your effort to 
thwart my future, but you’ll have your labor for your 
pains. Women will not so far forget their proper 
place as to vote — that is certain. Peg away, only do 
not say anything about my private financial matters. 
It takes all sorts of bait to catch some fish ; and now 
let me see the skirt made by the toiling fingers of 
the dark-haired woman who has your future brother- 
in-law’s heart.” 

4s * * * * * * 

True to her resolve, soon after the Business 
Woman’s Club was called to order, the next after- 
noon, Miss Katie Browne arose, and said: 

“ Madam President : I move you that we dispense 
with the regular business of the hour, unless it is of 
the utmost importance. I have a most urgent mat- 
ter to present for the consideration of this meeting.” 

A look of surprise went around the room. 

The Business Woman’s Club often looked sur- 
prised, when Miss Browne made remarks. 


302 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ Do I hear a second to the motion? ” 

The motion was duly seconded and carried, and 
Miss Browne was accorded the floor. 

' “ Madam President and Ladies,” she said, with a 
bow, adjusting her face veil. “ For some months I 
have been having sewing done by a woman who liyes 
in one of Stern’s old barny tenements. This work I 
have always sent to the woman, whom I never saw 
until a few days ago, when I called to get a skirt. I 
found her sewing for dear life, by a bedside where a 
delicate child lay sick. The room was pitifully bare 
and poverty-stricken. The woman was pale and 
tired, and her small, white hands were almost trans- 
parent and very nervous. Her face I can neither 
describe nor forget, but the Madonna never looked 
sadder. But it was the child in the bed that at- 
tracted my attention, for its little, feverish, pinched 
face, is a perfect miniature of the face of a man we 
often see around town. 

“ To make a long story short, and to spare as 
much as possible the feelings of the worked-to-death 
little woman, who bears every mark of being a lady, 
1 will only say that this decent-appearing man, whose 


IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 303 


name and face are familiar to every inhabitant of 
Border City, is the father of this child — and its 
mother cannot claim his name, for she was never 
married to him. Ladies, this young woman, as I 
have reason to believe, was betrayed because she be- 
lieved this man — this man who has broken every 
promise he ever made, and trampled under his feet 
every plea she ever sobbed. Society has put its sig- 
net of ostracism against her name, and as far as so- 
ciety at large is' concerned, the grave is her only 
refuge from the consequences of her sin of trusting 
too far, this man. This man, ladies, still figures in 
society, and women pay him homage, for some rea- 
son incomprehensible to me, and smile with pride to 
see his name in the papers in connection with their 
functions. The woman toils unceasingly for herself 
and his child, while he struts around hotels and par- 
lors. His child wears a patched cotton nightdress, 
while he wears a coat well-tailored, and an eight- 
dollar hat. The woman who should be his wife eats 
crusts dipped in tea, while he dines sumptuously on 
port wine and soft-shelled crabs. His child has 
never known a father's care, and has no legal right 


304 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


to her father’s name, and the mother is wearing her 
life out fighting the wolf from the door and battling 
for the good name that society will never freely 
grant. Now, ladies, this man has had the impudence 
to announce himself a candidate for the suffrages 
of the people of our state, and inasmuch as women 
are people in our state, women should make them- 
selves heard. For my part, I have taken my solemn 
oath that, so helping me God, no libertine shall, with 
my consent, ever represent me in the halls of state — 
no profligate shall make the laws by which I must 
be governed. He may be elected, he may make laws, 
but he will do it over my minority protest, and to 
this end I intend to do what I never expected to do, 
namely, to go out on election day and register my 
disapproval of this man by voting for his opponent, 
who, I learn, is decent if nothing more ; and I expect 
you, ladies of this club, to stand by yourselves and 
your own interests, by standing by the working 
woman — the woman whose lot has not been as pleas- 
ant as ours, whose name may not be as pure in the 
eyes of the world, but who may be every whit as 


IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 305 


strong and womanly as we would be had her environ- 
ments and temptations been ours.” 

After this mysterious and most interesting speech, 
Miss Browne gave her face-veil a little twist, and sat 
down. 

“ Who is the man? Who is the man? Who is the 
man? ” 

The question was shouted by half a dozen women 
at the same time. 

“ By name and reputation he is Cornelius Mans- 
field, Senator-nominate from the Fifth Congressional 
District, and the vote of Border City will elect or de- 
feat him.” 

A dead hush fell on the club, for the space of 
one minute. 

This hush was the gasp that precedes an out- 
break, and in the animated buzz that followed it, a 
great many things were said that had never been 
printed in the papers about Mr. Mansfield. 

Finally the president rapped for order. 

“ Madam President,” the assistant cashier of a 
bank, arose to remark, “this matter should be 


306 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


brought before this meeting in such shape that ac- 
tion can be taken by this club as a body, and that 
will invite the co-operation of every club of women 
in this city. We can do no less than register our 
unqualified disapproval of this man, and if we work 
wisely, we may save the reputation of the Fifth 
Congressional District. In order to bring the mat- 
ter before this meeting, I move the adoption of this 
resolution,” and she handed the secretary a slip of 
paper. 

The eyes of the club then turned to the secretary, 
who read as follows : 

Eesolved, That we, the members of the Business 
Woman’s Club, believing in the honor of men and 
the virtue of women, do believe and declare that no 
man morally unclean, and therefore morally unfit, 
should ask nor dare expect the suffrage of a decent 
and intelligent people. And we further declare that 
we will register our disapproval of any and all such 
candidates at the polls, and will also use our influ- 
ence to increase such disapproving sentiment. 

This resolution called forth the usual amount of 
discussion. 


IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 307 


Some women thought it was not strong enough, 
some thought it not long enough. Some moved to 
“ insert,” and some moved to “ strike out,” but at 
last it was worded to suit the majority, and adopted. 

After another period of discussion delegates were 
selected; one to attend the club-meeting of every 
club in the city, bringing before such meeting the 
story of Mr. Mansfield and his reputation, in order 
to defeat, if possible, the man that sought to repre- 
sent the women of the Fifth District, Border City 
included. 

Thus it happened that during the next week, the 
club women of Border City, behind closed doors, dis- 
cussed the moral character of Cornelius Mansfield, 
and many and dreadful were the tales told of him, — 
enough to fill a volume, and almost with one accord 
the women grew indignant to think that such a man 
had had the effrontery to offer himself as a candidate 
in a state where women had the ballot. 

When the matter was brought before the W. C. 
T. IT., more than one mother waxed eloquent, and 
they had prayers. 

During the discussion, a timid-looking woman on 


308 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


the back seat, arose to make an inquiry of the dele- 
gate who represented the Business Woman’s Club, 
and which happened to he Miss Browne. 

“ Do you know how old the child is? ” she asked, 
timidly. 

“ I have been informed it is seven.” 

“ And the woman — what does she look like? 
What is her voice like?” 

Everybody had now turned their attention to the 
soft-voiced old widow. 

“ She is rather small, very pretty, with a sad face. 
Her hair is black, and curls around her face, and her 
voice — her voice is as pleasant — as subdued minor 
music.” 

The widow leaned eagerly forward. 

“ Was the child horn in the Haven, do you 
know? ” 

“ Mother Shephard tells me that she was.” 

“ And the woman’s name? ” the old lady inquired, 
almost in a whisper. 

“ We call her Mrs. King. This is not her name, 
but she is sensitive to publicity, as we would be.” 

The widow gasped, and twisted her handkerchief. 


IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 309 


There was a painful pause, such a one as one 
grows accustomed to in prayer-meetings when those 
present are awaiting a spiritual blessing. 

The W. C. T. U. ladies waited with bated breath, 
for the widow was evidently agitated. 

“ Ladies/’ she presently found courage to say, “ I 
was born in a state where woman’s place was at 
home, and the men folks did the voting. I have al- 
ways held it to be outside a woman’s sphere to vote. 
More than this, I have been sure a lady could not 
vote and remain a lady. Ladies, I shall be at the 
polls as soon as they open next election day, I shall 
be waiting there to vote against Cornelius Mansfield. 
If after this I can be a lady no more, very well. Cor- 
nelius Mansfield must taste his retribution, and it is 
a woman’s place to administer the dose. Ladies,” 
and her voice faltered, “ I shall vote.” 

“ Ladies,” and she hesitated yet longer, “ I shall 
vote.” 

“ Ladies,” and a third time she paused, solemnly, 
“ I shall vote,” and she put great emphasis on the 
announcement. 

A smile went around the room, then some one be- 


310 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


gan to sing “ Praise God,” and the Widow Bran- 
haven was thankful for it, for her heart thumped so 
she feared it would make its escape, still she moved 
her lips, framing the words, “ I shall vote.” 

At the general meeting of club representatives, 
Mother Shephard, who was present by invitation of 
Miss Browne, made a few remarks. 

After her remarks, a general discussion followed, 
the assemblage, individually and collectively, decid- 
ing that Cornelius Mansfield must be defeated. As 
an after-thought, one kind-hearted woman proposed 
that a letter be sent to Mr. Mansfield, informing him 
of the fact that the women of Border City con- 
demned his shocking morals, and would vote for his 
opponent, unless he married the woman, of whom 
they had heard, before election. 

Mother Shephard smiled, when this was proposed, 
and listened to the animated discussion of the ques- 
tion. 

After quarter of an hour of speech-making, the 
motion was carried, and a committee appointed to 
draw up the document that was virtually to give Mr. 


IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 311 


Mansfield his choice of marrying Mignon, or taking 
his chances on being elected, with a considerable 
array of women against him. 

It must be stated here that the S. P. 1. P. received 
the delegate from the Business Woman’s Club rather 
coldly, and tabled the resolution, thus saving their 
names the disgrace of appearing with the others. 
******* 

While the club women were thus exercising their 
rights without her knowledge, Mignon was more 
closely than ever confined, for little Telsa did not 
mend. 

Faithfully the sore-hearted mother carried out 
Doctor Hernando’s most minute instructions, and 
more than once he assured her that she was a famous 
nurse. 

Mignon prayed, too, these days, prayed that the 
child might soon get well, and that when she did so, 
the strange disorder that had spoiled her childhood 
would not come again. 

Doctor Hernando stopped every few days at the 
Haven to tell Mother Shephard of the child’s condi- 
tion, and dropping in for a moment the day after the 


312 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


club women bad met, Mother Shephard told him of 
the movement on foot by the women to force Mans- 
field to marry Mignon, and if he would not, to use 
their influence the day of election to defeat him. 

“ Isn’t it a superb plan, and worthy the women 
who are carrying it out?” Mother Shephard in- 
quired. 

“ It is a most idiotic move. Why couldn’t those 
women have turned out and voted him down uncon- 
ditionally? Our poor little friend has trouble 
enough on her hands at present, without being an- 
noyed by that totally depraved Mansfield.” 

“ I know, but suppose he marries her? Had you 
thought of that? See then how her life would be 
changed.” 

Doctor Hernando took off his glasses, and slowly 
turned them over his thumb. 

Then he leveled his eyes at Mother Shephard. 

She bore his careful scrutiny well. 

“ Would you like to see her the wife of Mans- 
field?” he asked, gravely. 

“ He would not be the most desirable husband — 
she is ten times too good for him — but, Doctor Her- 


IN WHICH VENGEANCE IS PLOTTED. 313 


nando, she has such a hard time, and how can it 
ever be any different? ” 

Doctor Hernando regarded her another long min- 
ute. 

He placed his glasses on his nose. 

They slipped off. 

He placed them carefully on again, and with a 
parting squint at Mother Shephard, said : “ I have 
always supposed you to possess good sense,” and 
turning, he left the hallway. 

Mother Shephard smiled, as he strode down the 
flagstone pavement, and her face took on a thought- 
ful expression. 

A notion had more than once come to her, when 
thinking of Doctor Hernando and Mignon, but it 
had been too impossible to admit of enlargement. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 

Cornelius Mansfield was in his room for the night. 

It was not the same room he had once occupied, 
for his bank account now warranted the use of but 
one room, whereas he had formerly had two. 

Cornelius Mansfield, having been moved by the 
impulse of the greedy boy, had the year before, when 
he thought he saw a chance to make an independent 
fortune, bought all the salable stock in a certain min- 
ing interest. 

But the Joplin Zinc mines had turned out mud 
and gravel, to the exclusion of all more valuable 
stuff, and Mansfield took his dividends in mud. 

* 

After this, he still owned interests in other prop- 
erties, but he found it necessary to mortgage one 
property to keep another running, and bv bits he got 
his financial affairs sadly tangled, as greedy men 
often do. 

Still, he had money enough to dress well on, eat 
314 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON M1GNON. 315 


well on, and furnish ladies with carriages and bou- 
quets, as occasion demanded. 

This night he had seated himself to consider the 
important question of matrimony. 

He had lost heavily; he was on the edge of bank- 
ruptcy: these facts did not warrant the presumption 
that he would find it easy to get a wife. But he had 
unbounded confidence in his charms, besides he was 
a prospective senator, and no woman underrates the 
position offered her as senator’s wife, especially when 
it was as sure a thing as it seemed to be in his case. 
Elections had in years past run pretty close in his 
district, but the party on whose ticket his name 
blossomed had never suffered defeat, and its parti- 
sans had declared it never should. 

Mansfield knew the job of serving the people 
would not always last, and he correctly reasoned that 
he would be older, and perhaps not so desirable as a 
husband at the end of that time, so he determined 
to take a wife. 

His preferences were for a young and fresh 
heiress; some Upper Terrace maiden, who would 
look upon his worldly experience and years with awe, 


316 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


who would cling to him, whose life was as pure as 
an Easter lily, and whose inheritance would not fall 
short of a hundred thousand. 

But in running the list of such maidens over in 
his mind, many difficulties presented themselves, the 
first and greatest in each case being the father of 
each said girl, so with reluctance he turned from 
what he preferred to what was more possible. 

His next thought was of those other maidens — 
not so young nor so trusting, but with unsullied 
names and fat purses, those ladies who have weath- 
ered many summers at the seaside and many winters 
in the city as ornaments to society. 

In the cases of these, Mansfield argued that the 
fathers would not be so particular, as all fathers want 
their daughters to marry some time. 

There were several eligible ladies outside this 
Upper Terrace circle, some of whom had money, but 
to these he only gave a passing thought, with the 
exception of Mrs. Hadley, to whose memory he gave 
a smile. 

“ If the 1 fat Hadley ’ wasn’t such a deuced fool, 
and if she had two hundred thousand instead of one, 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 317 


I'd — no, I wouldn’t either, not for five hundred 
thousand,” and Mansfield lit a cigar. 

Then he propped his feet on the edge of the 
table, and with his head and shoulders well tumbled 
down in the chair, he had just begun to formulate 
the course of proceedings he was to follow in obtain- 
ing a wife, when a knock was heard at the door. 

“ Mail, sir,” the porter said, thrusting in a roll of 
papers. 

Mansfield tossed the papers on the table, and 
after opening the letters, one after the other, added 
them to the pile, until the last one had been opened. 

Hardly had he finished reading this last docu- 
ment, when his heels struck the floor with a crash, 
and he sat upright. 

The intelligence conveyed by the communication 
in his hand was neither lengthy nor profound, and 
yet by its brief simplicity it seemed to strike him. 

Again he read it. 

“ Mr. Cornelius Mansfield, 

“ Border City. 

“ Sir : A portion of the women of Border City 
object to being represented by a man who so outrages 


318 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


the ethics of morality as they have good reason to 
believe you have done and continue to do. Unless 
public announcement of your marriage with Mignon 
Dermot is made not later than the afternoon pre- 
ceding election da y, a considerable portion of your 
constituency will be, by the interests of common 
decernw, compelled to cast their votes for and use 
their influence in supporting your political oppo- 
nent.” 

This entirely unprecedented document was signed 
by authority of ten of the twelve woman’s clubs of 
the city, and some of these clubs had a large and in- 
fluential membership. 

“ The deuce! The deuce! the deuce! ” he ex- 
claimed. 

“ Nice kettle of fish, this, to be in on the eve of 
election,” and he reinforced his remark with expres- 
sions not intended for the ears of ladies or the read- 
ing public. 

“ Looks like suffrage was planned to prevent my 
proposed marriage — this does, and there are enough 
of them to send me up salt creek to its hidden source. 
As for money — I’ll quit before I try to buy a woman’s 
vote,” and again he punctuated his opinion by his 
previous unwritable remarks. 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 319 


After some time of deep study, the scowl left his 
face, and he rather smiled. 

“ Don’t wear your heels out kicking fate, my hoy,” 
he advised himself, “ she’ll make a senator’s wife 
all right, and with her I’m dead sure of a walkover. 
Good-by, Upper Terrace — good-by.” 

❖ ❖ * ^ * % * 

The information that Doctor Hernando had 
heard from Mother Shephard had had a depressing- 
effect on him, and he wondered how so good a woman 
as the matron of the Haven could for an instant 
tolerate the thought of Mignon marrying Mansfield. 

But one thing he decided to do, and that was to 
tell Mignon what he had for many days deferred 
telling her, namely, that the child could not get 
well. He did not believe that Mignon would marry 
Mansfield under any considerations, but if she 
should, it would be on the child’s account, and he 
thought that if she knew the child was going to 
leave her, it might shape her decision in rejecting or 
accepting Mansfield. 

Also he deemed it wise to advise Dariah Plunkett 


320 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


of the child’s condition, and ask him to watch Mig- 
non, so as to he near if she should need help. 

Both of these decisions Doctor Hernando carried 
out. 

Mignon had just bathed little Telsa, and taken 
her seat by the bedside, the night after Doctor Her- 
nando had told her the child could not live much 
longer, when a gentle tap was heard on the barred 
door. 

Stepping across the room, Mignon said, softly, 
“Who is it?” 

“ It’s me, Mignon. It’s me,” and she recognized 
the voice of Cornelius Mansfield. 

“ You cannot come in,” she said. 

“ But I am on important business, I must.” 

“ Little Telsa is ill.” 

“Who is little Telsa?” 

“ Your daughter.” 

“ Then let me in. I have a right to see the child. 
I have a marriage license in my hand.” 

Mignon gave a slight start, then smiled at her 
simplicity. 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 321 


“ Don’t you believe it?” he questioned, against 
the edge of the door. 

“ No.” 

“ Here,” he said, “ look under the door. Let me 
in.” 

Sure enough, something white slid under the 
door, and Mignon taking it to the lamp, examined it 
carefully. 

It was a marriage license, issued to Cornelius 
Mansfield and Mignon Dermot. 

For a moment she stood with the paper unfolded 
in her hand, too amazed to speak. Then she re- 
turned to the door. 

“ Let me in,” he insisted. “ I must see you.” 

Slowly she slid the bar, and Cornelius Mansfield 
quickly entered the room. 

He did not remove his coat. He lifted his hat, 
but after a glance around the room, seeing no 
suitable place to put it, he dropped it again on his 
head. 

“ I have come at last to make good my promises, 
Mignon, and I should have done it long before, but 
circumstances over which I— — ” 


322 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


" You must speak softly, and be in a hurry,” she 
interrupted, glancing toward the bed. 

" Al*l right. Let by-gones be by-gones. You 
know now that I mean business. We will be married 
to-morrow, and I will get you out of this hole, get 
you some clothes fit for a senator’s wife, and get the 
gypsy baby the finest cloak and the biggest doll in 
Border City. What ails her? ” and he stopped long 
enough to glance at the bed. 

" She is very ill,” Mignon answered, quietly, “ and 
if you have finished your important business, you 
had better go.” 

" I am saying ” he began again, gazing at 

her in some surprise, " that I have come to marry 
you.” 

“ You have come too late.” 

"What do you mean?” he demanded, nervously. 

" T mean that you have come too late.” 

"You do not. You mean that you will marry 
me,” and he spoke rapidly, and smiled, but the smile 
did not hide his apprehension. 

"Marry you?” and lifting her eyebrows, she 
looked at him, quietly. "Why should I marry you? 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 323 


A life of legal misery, after all these years, would be 
no better than a life of illegal misery.” 

Mansfield stood aghast. 

“ But you love me,” he said. 

“ No,” she answered, quietly. 

“ You swore you did, and always would.” 

“ I did love, once. The man I loved was a man 
I trusted; he was a man who loved me; he was a 
man who promised to stand between me and the 
world, of which I was afraid; but you are not that 
man. You betrayed me to the world, you pushed 
me into a life of worse misery than you ever swore to 
shield me from. The man I loved had honor — you 
have none. The man I loved knew the value of a 
woman’s virtue — you do not. The man I loved, 
loved me — you never did.” 

“ But I swear I do love you ; I will revive your 
old love.” 

“ Dead things cannot be revived.” 

“ I will grow a fresh love.” 

“ There is no place for it to grow.” 

“ Then the place has been supplanted by an- 


other’s love.” 


324 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Mignon made no answer to his last remark, and 
he tried new tactics. 

“But Mignon, deary, for the sake of the child, 
your child and mine, we must be married. My good- 
ness, when I think of it, when I think of the dear 
little child, I want the words said this night that 
shall make us one. That child must have her 
father’s name to-morrow.” 

“ The child will be in heaven perhaps to-morrow 
— where she will not need her father’s name to make 
her honorable, nor her father’s love to make her 
happy.” 

“ Who says the child will die? ” 

Mignon frowned at him, for he spoke in a loud 
voice. 

“ Doctor Hernando is my physician.” 

“ Doctor Hernando is a hound. Doctor Hernando 
would let my child die, because it is mine. I will get 
a physician who will cure the child. We will have 
her well and merry as a larl^ in two weeks.” 

“ Doctor Hernando has my utmost confidence,” 
Mignon returned, coldly. 

“ And perhaps your love,” he sneered. 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 325 


To this remark, Mignon paid no attention. 

“ Mignon! Mignon!” he exclaimed, suddenly, 
“ think what it means to me, a lonely man, to he 
thus treated by the only woman I ever really loved. 
You don’t mean it. I swear, I will die by my own 
hand, if you say you do.” 

Mignon looked at him, and smiled. 

It was a smile that said much more than could 
have been spoken in the length of time, but Mans- 
field ignored it. 

“ You are only joking,” he continued, “ I shall go 
now — now , and get a minister. It is not late,” and 
he glanced at the clock. 

“Your trouble will be useless. I shall never 
marry you, though you bring all the licenses and all 
the preachers in Border City. Please consider this 
final, and leave me alone with my child, who can- 
not stay with me much longer,” and in spite of her 
effort, the too-willing tears filled her eyes. 

“You have a heart, deary,” he said, in the old 
tender way. “ A woman’s heart. You have trouble 
which I must help you bear, and I have trouble such 
as I cannot bear without you, for I love you. Not a 


326 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


minute, not one minute of my life, but that I have 
yearned for you. You know me, darling — I am 
proud, but because I love you, because you are my 
queen, I get on my knees before you. For God’s 
sake, love me a little as you used to,” and his voice 
grew beautifully tremulous and husky. 

It was the last grand play, and no knight ever 
knelt more knightly than he knelt before the aston- 
ished Mignon. 

For a long minute, she stood contemplating him, 
a look of contempt, mingled with pity, resting on her 
face. 

“ Cornelius Mansfield,” she said, softly, “ you are 
on your knees, begging me to marry you.” 

“ And you will do it,” he exclaimed, quickly. 

“ Never,” and her tone, more than the one short 
word, conveyed its meaning. 

Cornelius Mansfield sprang to his feet, purple 
with anger, and trembling with humiliation. 

“ And is this your long-planned retribution? ” he 
cried, wrathfully. 

“ I have planned no retribution. My own bitter 
retribution for my own sin of trusting you, these 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 327 


years had crushed me to the earth. I have had no 
time to think of yours. If I had, do you forget a 
Christian leaves retribution in the hands of the 
Father? ” 

Mansfield stood absolutely motionless for a short 
time, then he stepped to the table, and twisting the 
license into a roll, thrust it into the lamp chimney, 
and stepped back to see it burn. 

When the smoke was puffing out the chimney in 
long, black whirls, he cast one last glance at Mignon, 
and left the room, and before his feet had left the 
threshold half a dozen steps behind, he heard the 
bolt dropped back in place. 

After leaving the narrow staircase, with a last 
look up its blackness, Cornelius Mansfield walked 
rapidly, with one gloved hand in one overcoat pocket, 
and it was the peculiarly lonesome feeling of this 
hand that first brought him to a full realization of 
his predicament. 

On the way to the interview with Mignon, he had 
held this hand in this pocket this same way, and it 
had pressed against a paper, and on this paper hung 
a fate — a pleasant fate, for while it meant that he 


328 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


must lose the rather uncertain chances of trapping 
a middle-aged heiress, he considered that it also 
meant the surety of his election, and he argued sat- 
isfactorily that a small certainty is more to be de- 
sired than a big uncertainty. 

Besides this, he felt that he was doing a manly 
act, and the largeness of his generosity in going to 
the woman, whose heart he had so entirely won, al- 
most overcame him every dozen steps or so. 

He felt that he was conferring on her an honor 
worthy a knight; that he was about to lift her to 
a level that would make her head giddy, and he an- 
ticipated much actual pleasure in holding her head, 
figuratively speaking, until such time as she should 
become accustomed to her exalted position as sena- 
tor’s wife. In this connection, it afforded him some 
pleasure to dwell on her beauty, and the fact that she 
had lived like a Christian through the long, hard 
years. 

Now when his hand spread itself feebly in his 
empty pocket, defeat in all its meaning, seemed to 
be impressing itself upon his shocked brain. 

He slowed up, and finally stopped. 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 329 


Generally, it was no trouble to walk and think at 
the same time, but on this night his thoughts were 
too great to be borne, or too twisted around to insure 
a graceful carriage, and his sudden stop was for the 
purpose of taking a closer and steadier view of him- 
self in the sudden turn of his fortune. 

He did not reason aloud, but held an interesting 
mental conversation with himself. 

It was short and decisive. 

“ You are beat, Mansfield.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And by women.” 

“ Yes.” 

"And you have thought the sole end of their 
creation the amusement of man.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What are you going to do? ” 

This question was important, and Mr. Mansfield 
thought rapidly. 

Then he jerked out his watch, looked at it, and 
smiled. 

Immediately after this, he changed his direction 
and set out afresh. 


330 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ Better get a move on yourself/* his sub-con- 
scious, being advised. 

Accordingly, he got a move on himself, and 
walked rapidly toward Upper Terrace, where some 
moments later he turned into a side street. 

In about twenty minutes, Mrs. Hadley heard 
the bell ring, and caught Mr. Mansfield’s well-modu- 
lated voice in the lower hallway. She was consulting 
an almanac, and as she was not dressed for company, 
a description of her costume would he unkind, hut 
even before the girl had brought his card to the 
door, Mrs. Hadley was in the contortions of adjust- 
ing her tightest and most graceful tea-gown. 

Her hair was loosened and punched up becom- 
ingly. Her face was treated to a swift dash of pow- 
der, and a drop of crab-apple blossom extract was 
sprayed over her yellow pompadour, after which she 
sailed away as gracefully as her weight would allow. 

“ What a delightful surprise!” she exclaimed, 
with a smile done in most artistic and fetching man- 
ner. 

“ I hope I am not an intruder. Have I broken 
your rest, or called you from an engagement ? ” 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 331 


“ No, indeed. I had just settled myself to spend 
a pleasant hour with Browning; but this is better. 
I do so like to be surprised when ” 

“ When? ” 

“ By •” 

Mrs. Hadley was supposed to blush slightly now, 
and perhaps did, though the natural condition of 
her complexion was not favorable to any only the 
most violent efforts. 

Mansfield crossed the room, and sat on the sofa 
by his hostess. 

There was just room enough for two of them. 

“ And so you are surprised,” he said, in the old, 
insinuating way, that Mignon would have under- 
stood. 

“ If you knew what an effort it has been for me 
to keep from your side, you would be surprised that 
I have not come long ago. A man at my age knows 
well how to control his feelings, unless, perchance, 
they grow uncontrollable. Then he must move at 
their direction, or forever suffer, and suffer I have, 
trying to stifle my love for you. I have been on the 
point of telling you, of praying you to understand 


332 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


me, for months, but your diffident way, your coldness 
of manner, your apparent disregard of even my 
slightest advances to win your affections, have held 
me back until, I swear to you, I had to come to- 
night,” and Mansfield took her hand. 

Mrs. Hadley was silent. Perhaps she was trying 
to call to mind some one attempt he had made to 
win her affection. 

But while she was silent, she did not make any 
great effort to keep him from capturing her hand, 
which he spread on his knee covering it with his 
own, this being an easier task than trying to hold it, 
owing to the size and puffy condition of the joints 
of both her hands and his. 

“ This is so sudden! ” she gasped. 

“Not at all — not at all ” he whispered. “I 

have thought of it for months.” 

“ But you do not say you love me! ” and she made 
an effort to loosen her hand. 

He bore down with tender and manly force, the 
bare possibility of losing her giving him fresh 
strength. 


MANSFIELD AGAIN CALLS ON MIGNON. 333 


“Love you? How can you doubt it? I never 
set eyes on a woman who has so entirely bewitched 
me, and I have seen many a beauty in my day.” 

“ But I am not worthy the honor of being a sena- 
tor’s wife,” and the joy of the honor caused her 
breath to tremble. 

This remark also caused Mansfield to shudder, for 
it reminded him that if he did not secure his wife 
before election he would not afterwards, and with 
the loss of her his last hope disappeared. 

He threw his arm around her — as far as it would 
reach — and kissed her on the forehead. 

“ Honor? ” he exclaimed, with as good a show of 
passionate feeling as was possible, “ The honor will 
all be on my side. Society will recognize a peerless 
leader, and the fact that that leader is my wife will 
more than fill my cup with pleasure.” 

Mrs Richard Hadley picked a lace handkerchief 
from her bosom, and held it to her eyes. 

“ And now,” said Mansfield, bending near her, 
and raising the handkerchief, “another surprise. I 
am going to bring a minister out here to-morrow 


334 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


night, and we will have a quiet ceremony, and have 
it over/’ 

Mrs. Hadley straightened up. 

“ And give me no time to prepare? ” she inquired, 
aghast. 

Mansfield laughed a beautiful, rippling laugh. 

“ Prepare? You prepare? You are fit to be a 
bride right now. No, I will not wait. I have waited 
already past the limit of all endurance.” 

Mrs. Hadley pressed her hand to her bosom. 

“ How sudden! ” she again murmured. “ But 
have your own way. I am too much overcome to ob- 
ject, and as luck will have it, my second mourning 
outfit is brand new, and with a few retouches, will be 
just the thing.” 

“ How ready women are for emergencies, and a 
senator’s wife should always be,” and Mansfield 
patted her approvingly on the shoulder. 

Mrs. Hadley sank against his arm, almost over- 
come with the magnitude of the social position that 
she was about to step into. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA. 

Dariah Plunkett, true to his promise to Doctor 
Hernando, watched Mignon, though not as Doctor 
Hernando had supposed, for he would hardly have 
approved of the hole in the wall process, as adopted 
by Dariah Plunkett. 

But this suited Dariah, and puffed to a feeling of 
wonderful importance by some unusual news, he has- 
tened to call upon Doctor Hernando. 

When Doctor Hernando found him waiting on 
the steps, early in the morning, he knew even before 
Dariah had opened his jumping mouth, that some- 
thing unusual had brought him out. 

“ Is the child worse ? 99 he inquired, anxiously. 

“ I-It’s the v-veery,” Dariah stammered, in an- 
swer to the question. 

“ What trouble is she in now? ” and there was 
apprehension in Doctor Hernando’s voice, for her 
life seemed to be one long trouble, with here and 

there a more serious outbreak to punctuate it. 

335 


336 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ S-s-she’s c-crazy,” Dariah explained. 

“ Crazy? She was sane enough last night.” 

“ S-s-she ? s crazy.” 

“ What is she doing? ” 

Then Dariah Plunkett began, in his slow way, to 
tell how Cornelius Mansfield had visited Mignon the 
night before. 

As he talked, Doctor Hernando twisted his 
glasses around his thumb, and once or twice moved 
from his chair to the window and back. 

Dariah Plunkett stopped and stuttered and stam- 
mered, and at points most interesting made such ex- 
asperating pauses that the Doctor was tempted to 
grasp him by the coatcollar and shake the halting 
words out. 

“ You mean to say,” he exclaimed, when the last 
of the tale had been told, “ that he came there last 
night with a license, prepared to marry her, and she 
refused him? ” 

“ S-s-sure.” 

“What reason did she give him?” and Doctor 
Hernando adjusted his glasses, and looked at 
Dariah. 


DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA. 


337 


The old man shook his head, slowly. 

“ I-Fm beat/’ he said, as slowly as he shook his 
head. “ S-s-she s-s-said s-s-something about not lov- 
ing him no m-more," and the old man's long, stub- 
born nose, showed a disposition to turn up, “ and he 
s-s-said he'd make her love him, and she s-s-said he 
couldn't." 

“ What did he say to that? " 

“ He s-s-said she loved s-s-somebody else." 

“What did she say?" and Doctor Hernando 
leaned forward, impatiently. 

“ S-s-she, she didn't s-s-say nothing." 

“ Then did he burn the license? " 

“ N-not yet. He s-s-said he loved the child, like 
he was its own father. He s-s-said you was killing it, 
c-cause it was his." 

“He said that, did he?" 

“ And more." 

“ Tell on. What did she say to this? " 

“ S-s-she said you had her c-confidence." 

Doctor Hernando settled back comfortably in his 
chair. 

“You are sure of that?" he inquired. 


338 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


“ S-s-sure .” 

“ And what did he say to that? ” 

“ His m-moustache curled l-like a leaf in a f-fire, 
and he s-s-said, ‘ Maybe y-you love him, too/ ” 

“And she said?” 

“ S-s-she didn’t s-s-say nothing.” 

“ Then was it he burned the license?” 

“Not y-yet. Then it was he f-fell onto his 
k-knees and besought her. It was p-pitiful to s-s-see 
a s-strong man s-s-so undone.” 

“ Did he appear heart-broken? ” 

“ Heart-b-broken.” 

“ What did she say to this? ” 

“ S-s-she looked at him l-like this,” and Dariah 
rose proudly to his full height, and assumed as 
haughty a mien as possible with his jumping chin. 
“ And s-s-she says, c N -never’ Would you have 
t-thought it of her? ” 

“ And she is crazy? ” Doctor Hernando mused. 
Dariah Plunkett looked at the Doctor severely, 
before further expressing himself, then said, “ Would 
a w-woman in s-s-sense refuse a man with money in 
his p-pocket and more in the b-bank, when s-s-she’s 


DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA. 


339 


grinding out her life to get b-bread?— and more so 
when he’s daddy to the little one? Would she, a 
woman like h-er, s-s-smash a man’s heart, and him 
a s-s-swearing to take his own life for 1-love of her? ” 

“ He will not take his life. Don’t let that worry 
you.” 

“ But h-he will.” 

“ Have the spirits so informed you? ” 

“ S-s-sure.” 

“ Let us watch and see.” 

Dariah Plunkett looked graver than Doctor Her- 
nando had ever seen him. 

“ T-two lives b-blasted!” he mournfully ex- 
claimed. “ Him to d-drown his s-s-sorrow in the 
river, and her c-crazy.” 

“ And you really call her crazy? ” 

“ C-crazy.” 

“ For which sort of craziness, let us thank the 
good Lord,” and Doctor Hernando smiled, actually 
laughed, for he well knew, by the expression on the 
old man’s face, that Dariah Plunkett had now added 
a crazy doctor to his list of doubled ones. 

“ How is the child?” the physician presently in- 
quired, changing the subject. 


340 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Dariah shook his head, dubiously. 

“ S-s-she don’t look none too w-well this morn- 
ing.” 

“ I will be going out there presently. If you 
choose to wait, I shall consider it an honor to have 
the pleasure of your company.” 

It was now Dariah’s turn to smile. He even for- 
got that Doctor Hernando was going crazy. 

Most of the time that little Telsa had been sick, 
though Doctor Hernando had protested, Mignon had 
sewed, sitting beside the bed, with her work in her 
lap and her medicine and clock close by, for the child 
seemed never to suffer now, only to grow weaker and 
weaker, as each morning stretched into afternoon 
and each evening lengthened into another night. 

It afforded the child great pleasure to hear Mig- 
non sing, especially that old song, “ On the Other 
Side of Jordan,” and while she sang softly, as if 
to some one very far away, Telsa watched her 
mother’s face as closely as if divining the mysteries 
that had brought the sadness into its beauty. 


DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA. 


341 


Sometimes, suddenly looking up, Mignon would 
catch the intense look on the child’s face, and then 
her eyes would fill with tears, and when the child 
noticed them the expression would melt away, and 
she would reach out her thin little hand and feel for 
her mother’s. 

Sometimes, though not often, the little girl would 
talk, but her efforts became less frequent as she grew 
weaker, and many times, when she had begun some 
little speech, she would end it when but half-finished 
with a sigh, and turn her head on her pillow, only 
feeling for her mother’s hand, which she pressed as 
if by the pressure she could speak. 

After Doctor Hernando told Mignon that little 
Telsa was surely slipping away to her last rest, she 
rarely left the child’s bedside, only when the little 
one slept. 

When she was sure the eyes would not open, to 
follow her reproachfully, she would release the thin 
fingers gentty, place them on the coverlet, and stand 
looking on the fading child until through her tears 
nothing but a blur lay against the white sheet and 
pillow. 


342 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


It was while Telsa slept that she did her work, 
and always these days with an air of expectancy. 

She was waiting for a Guest. 

She did not expect to hear his footfalls. 

She knew she should not hear his breathing, 
neither would his shadow mark a line against the 
wall. 

Still he was coming, and the child was getting 
ready to depart with him. Her little one — un- 
known by its father — unwelcome in the world, was to 
go out of it with the silent, shapeless, soulless Guest. 

Quite early in the morning after Mansfield had 
made his last visit, Mignon, who had toward day- 
light fallen asleep, was aroused by the child’s trem- 
bling hand feeling for hers. 

“What, dearest?” she said, folding the little 
hand in hers. 

“ Am I on the water? ” Telsa questioned, clearly. 

Mignon was surprised at the strength in the 
child voice. A great hope came to her that she 
was better — much better. 

“ What water, little one? ” 

“Jordan,” and then Mignon understood. 


DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA. 


343 


“What makes you think of Jordan?” 

“ I feel the waves — the little waves. They are 
singing strange, quiet songs.” 

Mignon pressed the small hand closer in hers, but 
made no reply. 

“ Sing it,” little Telsa said, after a few minutes’ 
rest. 

“ On the other side of Jordan, 

In the sweet fields of Eden, 

Where the tree of life is blooming, 

There is rest for me.” 

Mignon sang softly. 

“ You’re sure of it? ” 

“Sure of what, dear?” 

“ Sure the tree of life is on the other side? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ With orange blossoms on it?” 

“ Yes.” 

“And rest?” 

“ Sweet rest.” 

“ Then I don’t mind going. The waves rock easy. 
Their little song makes me sleepy,” and she closed 
her eyes. 

But her rest was broken. After a time she sud- 


344 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


denly opened her eyes, and rested them on her 
mother’s face. 

For a moment she looked eagerty, but hesitated 
to speak, then she whispered, “ Will I have a father 
on the other side of Jordan? ” 

Mignon bent over her, to hide the rush of bitter 
tears. 

“Yes, dearest, you will have a Father, who loves 
you very much.” 

Little Telsa smiled, and with the smile still on her 
face, her eyes dropped half-shut, and again she slept, 
and as Mignon stood over her a great fear came into 
her heart, for it seemed the Guest was standing on 
the threshold. 

When Doctor Hernando came in, later, he stood 
beside the bed some moments. 

He took the little wrist, and pressed his fingers 
around it, holding it in his hand long after he had 
released his pressure. 

When he placed the little hand tenderly on the 
coverlet, he turned away from the bed, and by his 
action Mignon knew that the Guest had already 
crossed the threshold. 


DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA. 


345 


Doctor Hernando left the room to speak to Dariah 
Plunkett, and when he came back, he had come to 
stay until the Guest had gone, although he did not 
say so to Mingon, but he put his coat and hags aside, 
and took his place near the child. 

Little Telsa’s breathing was very weak, and her 
eyelids quivered at times as if caught in a passing 
breeze. 

Suddenly they lifted. 

Her bright blue eyes looked dazed for a moment, 
while she reached her hand for her mother. 

Then her eyes grew clearer, and she seemed try- 
ing to speak. 

“ What is it? ” Mignon inquired, tenderly. 

“ I wish my — father was not on — the other side.” 

“ Tell mother — mother will get anything for 
you.” 

“ I want — to see the lake. My father could hold 
me — in his arms.” 

“Your mother can hold you — you shall see the 
lake,” and Mignon looked at Doctor Hernando for 
permission to lift the child to a window close by, 
from which the lake could be distinctly seen. 


346 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


It was at this window little Telsa had most often 
stood. 

“ I will hold you/’ Doctor Hernando said. “ Your 
mother is tired.” 

Little Telsa smiled. 

Mignon placed a pillow on his arm, and then 
lifted the child, and Doctor Hernando held her to 
the window. 

The morning sun was bright, the day was clear, 
and the lake stretched long and brave and blue, with 
white caps dancing like ruffles on its surface. 

“ Where — is the — lake?” the child feebly in- 
quired, trying to follow the motion of her mother’s 
hand as she pointed. But the mist that came with 
the Guest blurred her vision. 

“ The waves rock me — I hear them — but where’s 
— the lake?” and she held out her hand, blindly 
groping. 

Doctor Hernando closely watched her face, then 
replaced her on the bed. 

After arranging her head on the pillow, he 
glanced at Mignon, and before she had raised her 
eyes from the child’s face to his, he saw the mask of 


DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA. 


347 


petrified sorrow that had been on her when the little 
one had been born, slipping back. 

The motion of the child’s hand drew her atten- 
tion, and kneeling by the bedside, she raised the wee 
thin hand to her lips. 

It was cold now, and damp, for the Guest had 
taken the little one in his arms, but Mignon hung 
on to it, and for a moment the finger-tips brushed 
her lips softly, as if caressing them. 

Then the damp fingers fell back into the mother’s 
hand, and though she shaped them, and pressed them 
to her lips, there was no more answering pressure. 

The Guest had borne the child away. 

For some moments after Telsa was dead, Doc- 
tor Hernando stood by the bedside, looking at the 
fragile clay form the Guest had left. 

The child’s soft black hair lay out against the pil- 
low in disordered ringlets, and from this he turned 
his eyes to the other head, with its wealth of fine 
dark hair, bowed over the child’s hand. 

Doctor Hernando was at a loss what to say. 

How could he say to the mother that her child 
was dead? 


348 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Whom would she turn to in her sorrow? 

He almost feared to have her raise her face, lest 
over it he should see again the pall of stony sorrow 
that had marred it once before, and as he stood look- 
ing at her an insane notion to kneel beside her, or 
to raise her beside him so that he could comfort her 
without words, came to him. 

While the notion was passing, she gently raised 
herself. 

“ Doctor Hernando,” she said, “ Is ” 

She could not frame the question, but Doctor 
Hernando understood, and bowed his head. 

Mignon was very pale, but she did not scream, she 
did not faint, neither had the dreaded, steel-cast 
sorrow-mask fitted itself over her face. 

Doctor Hernando was the first to break the short 
pause that followed, and his voice was a bit unsteady 
as he said: “I have had occasion to doubt the wisdom 
that Christians claim for their God, but in this case 
even I can see this has been wise. If the little one 
had lived, she would have suffered much physical 
pain, and could never have been well.” 


DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA. 


349 


“ God makes no mistakes,” Mignon answered him, 
in trembling words. 

“ You are very brave,” he answered, almost rev- 
erently, “ very brave.” 

u No, no; I am not brave,” she cried with pain, 
and the tears that she could no longer hold back, 
trickled down her cheeks. 

Doctor Hernando turned suddenly away, and 
walking to the window, looked out over the lake. 

For a moment the soft sobs of the mother, as she 
hung over the child’s body, broke the stillness of the 
death chamber, and seemed to Doctor Hernando to 
beat against his heart, each repeated sound adding 
to the keen pain he felt. 

Very soon the room was quiet again, but he did 
not look around. 

He still stood, with his eyes on the distant lake 
which, though the motion was lost in the distance, 
he knew was rocking back and forth and back 
and forth, in its great bed and restlessly lapping the 
sandy shore, and the words of the child repeated 
themselves in his ear. 


350 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


From the little one, his thoughts returned again to 
the mother, and once more the old query presented 
itself, as to why his life and hers had been wrecked 
each on a separate strand of isolation. 

From the dim past, the yellow-haired woman, like 
a siren, whispered, “ Say Myone,” and the thought 
intruded itself as to the consequences if the woman 
with the dark hair should suddenly come to him with 
the same words on her lips. 

Doctor Hernando smiled. 

After standing, absorbed in his own thoughts, 
some minutes, he became conscious that Mignon had 
been moving around the room, and he turned from 
the window. 

He did not know how long he had stood, but in 
the length of time Mignon had changed the child’s 
clothes. 

One side of the bed was smoothed, and on this the 
waxlike remains of little Telsa lay, while Mignon 
bent over her, preparing to curl her hair. 

“What are you doing?” Doctor Hernando ex- 
claimed. 


DEATH OF LITTLE TELSA. 


351 


“ I am dressing my baby for her coffin.” 

“ But you need not do this — it is unusual; it is 
too much for you.” 

Mignon looked at him, and smiled. 

“ Let me do it, Doctor Hernando. It is the last 
time I shall ever hold her little hand. I shall never, 
never brush her soft hair again. I can never, never 
button her dress or tie her shoe. Let me do it now. 
She was afraid of strangers — I am her mother.” 

Doctor Hernando stood by and watched her twist 
the soft hair around her trembling white finger, 
and slip the finger out, leaving the smooth, shining 
curl. 

When Mignon had finished, she folded the thin 
little hands across the still breast, and after she had 
stepped aside, as if his task must always be unpleas- 
ant, Doctor Hernando closed the lids over the blue 
eyes and pinned a napkin around the sharp little 
chin, being careful not to rumple the curls. 

It was all over in a short time. 

There was nothing left to do but to register a 
death certificate and arrange for the funeral. 


352 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


When he spoke of the funeral to Mignon, his 
words gave her a shock, for after the Guest conies 
the expense, and she had forgotten this. 

“ It must be very plain — the plainest,” she said, 
and Doctor Hernando bowed. 

He suggested that she take the corpse to the 
Haven, or that she have a neighbor or nurse come in 
so that she could rest, knowing as he made his sug- 
gestions that they would not be acted upon, for Mig- 
non insisted on staying by the child’s side. 

The next day there was a funeral. 

The procession consisted of a plain white hearse 
and three carriages. 

In the first of these was the chapel minister. In 
the second, Mignon and Mother Shephard, and in 
the third, Doctor Hernando and Dariah Plunkett. 

Owing to the charity and thoughtfulness of the 
benevolent old man who had endowed the Working 
Woman’s Fund, there were flowers on the small, 
fresh grave. 

Thus was laid to rest little Telsa, daughter of Cor- 
nelius Mansfield, the same day that he and Mrs. 
Hadley were married. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 

The day after little Telsa was buried, which was 
the day before election, Doctor Hernando saw, some- 
what to his surprise, that Mignon was in the waiting- 
room, among the usual number of office patients. 

Her presence seemed to have some sort of a de- 
pressing effect on him. 

He did not reason why; but she had come into 
his life when the child had come into the world, 
and he felt, now that the child had gone, she, too, 
would entirely disappear. More than this, he felt 
that she meant this to be so. 

Her manner and speech, when she had entered the 
private room, convinced him that he had judged 
aright. 

Mignon was not sadder than usual, indeed, she 
looked much rested and fresher, and she smiled 
brightly when he bade her good morning, for she 

thought Doctor Hernando seemed unusually fa- 
353 


354 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


tigued, nnd that she owed him at least a pleasant 
look for his kindness to her and the child. 

“ Doctor Hernando, I have come to get my bill.” 

He pointed to a chair, and when she had been 
seated, he sat down at his desk. 

“ I have made it my policy during my practice to 
gauge my charges according to the ability of the pa- 
tient to pay,” he said slowly, and Mignon noted a 
weariness in his manner that seemed unnatural. 

“ And according to that rule, I suppose, you think 
I should not see a bill, but it must not be that way. 
I am free now, and will pay you.” 

“ Very well,” he said, “ I will fix up your bill, 
and hand it to you in the course of a few days.” 

“ Doctor Hernando,” and Mignon hesitated, “ now 
that I am free, I do not intend to stay in the old 
room — I cannot. I should be always seeing the form 
of a child standing in the window at twilight. T 
should always be listening for her footstep. I should 
be thinking of what has been, and I intend to bury 
it. God knows I did the worst I could for the child, 
but He also knows T did the best. If she had stayed 
with me, I should have lived the same always — for 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 


1155 


her; but now that she has gone, I should like to be 
of service to some one else.” 

“ And what do you think of doing? — if I may 
ask.” 

“ I should like to be a nurse. Could I, do you 
think?” 

Doctor Hernando reflected, meantime twisting his 
glasses carefully. 

“ Yes,” he said, presently. “ You have a firm, 
careful, and very tender hand — rather small, but 
large enough, I suppose. You can control yourself 
admirably; you are careful to follow directions. You 
would make a nurse — a good one, but nursing is hard 
work, and you are not of the strongest.” 

“ Is nursing any harder than sewing from morn- 
ing to night? ” 

“ It could not possibly be.” 

Mignon smiled. 

“ I must be strong enough then,” she said. 

“ This being the case, you will make a nurse.” 

Mignon was silent, and for a few seconds seemed 
hesitating. 

“ I am under many obligations to you, Doctor 


356 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Hernando, and I dislike to worry you with my 
troubles, but I am acquainted with no other doctor. 
Could I train with you — under your care?” 

Doctor Hernando stopped twisting his glasses, and 
dropped his eyes. 

If he were squinting now, it was not discernible. 

Mignon did not understand him. 

“ Such an arrangement would put me in a very 
embarrassing position,” he said, after a moment of 
silent thought, without looking at Mignon. 

Instantly a pink flush mounted her cheeks, but it 
was not so much this, as the look of disappointment 
and grief that came into her eyes with it, that cut 
Doctor Hernando to the heart when he glanced at 
her. 

“ I should have thought,” she said, with an un- 
steady voice. “ I should have remembered ; but the 
years have been so long, I hoped — it would not mat- 
ter now.” 

Doctor Hernando looked blank for a moment, not 
understanding her. 

Then he sprang up, and stepped before her. 

“For God’s sake tell me! Do you suppose that I 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 357 


am a man having so little manhood, or knowing so 
little of chivalry, as to stab a woman’s heart — your 
heart, in the way you intimate? Pity me for being 
so clumsy of speech, but I cannot ask you to forgive 
me for the injustice your words imply. Your life is 
the most redeeming life of womankind that I have 
ever known. I meant no reference to your life. I 
could not.” 

Mignon had never seen Doctor Hernando look so 
pained as he did now. She had never heard him 
speak as he now spoke. 

“ What did you mean, then? ” she asked, quietly, 
and with her usually low and steady voice. 

Doctor Hernando regarded her seriously a mo- 
ment, then sat down. 

“ Will you listen while I tell you what I meant? 
I did not intend to speak of it, but now I must. 
When T was young T met a woman, and she en- 
chanted me, as a brilliant light draws a half-blind 
moth into its flame. In a flash, her brilliancy burst 
upon me, and I was more than ever blinded. I flut- 
tered wildly into the glare, and for a brief time hov- 
ered there, blindly delighted. Then the light sud- 


358 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


denly went out. I found myself burned forever. T 
also found the brilliant light had been but a candle 
dip. It was brilliant only because I had been blind. 
The woman I met saw nothing in an awkward, 
homely boy to love, and to his dying day he will be 
thankful that she did not, but the light he saw made 
him wary of better lights, so he forever foreswore the 
light of a woman’s love, and as he lived — as I lived 
and learned, the first woman passed into a dim and 
unpleasant memory. 

“ Then, when years had gone, I caught the glim- 
mer of another light. It was not brilliant, and at 
first was very far away, but as I came nearer and 
nearer it, by a path not of my own choosing, the 
light grew steadily clearer and brighter, as a home- 
light glows in the window for a man who has long 
cast his lot with strangers, and lonesome and home- 
sick, returns for light and warmth and love. And 
my way led nearer, always nearer this light, and re- 
membering the other, I tried to turn away, but still 
T kept getting nearer, and when I had come quite to 
it, I found it to be such a light as never fails, but I 
was on the outside. 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 


359 


“ This light was also born of my love for a woman. 
This second woman was truly womanly, and truly 
true, but she could see nothing in an awkward man 
to inspire her confidence, nothing in a homely man 
to admire, nothing in the clumsy speech of the man 
to win for him the light, and this second woman 

was ” and he turned his eyes steadily on her 

face, “ you.” 

He hesitated a moment, then continued : 

“ And now the end is come. Though this woman 
may not come into my life, I shall go on always lov- 
ing her, and thinking of the light that might have 
been, for my memory of this second woman will not 
fade with time, and will grow sweeter as the years 
pass. To have her under orders by my side in the 
capacity of nurse, 1 could not. Do you understand 
now why? ” 

Mignon shaded her eyes with her hand, and made 
no answer. 

It was very quiet in the room. 

The voices of those waiting in the parlor reached 
them indistinctly, and the measured ticking of a 
small mantel-clock sounded heavy on the air. 


360 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Presently Doctor Hernando arose. 

“ Yet there remains one thing for you to say. 
The first woman was untrue; she said as often as I 
wished to hear it, ‘ I love you, I love you/ and she 
lied. You will not say this. I do not expect it. You 
will say, ‘ I do not love you/ truthfully, and this you 
must say, for men are fools. Even though a man 
knows the light is not for him, he must hover around 
until the door is securely bolted in his face. The 
words I ask you for will be the final closing of the 
door; perhaps when they have been spoken 1 can 
turn from the light — not forget it. Say it now — you 
owe it me — say, ‘ Doctor Hernando, I do not love 
you.’ ” 

Mignon was silent. 

“ Have I asked a favor of you before, that you now 
refuse?” he questioned, warmly. “ For my peace of 
mind, say the words.” 

Still Mignon was silent. 

“Will you?” he again demanded. 

“ If you will remember always that you forced the 


words from me.” 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 


361 


“ I will remember,” he answered. “ Say the 
words.” 

“ Well then — I will not.” 

“ You must.” 

“ I cannot.” 

“ Why?” 

“ Doctor Hernando,” she exclaimed, impatiently, 
“ would you make me a liar, too ? I cannot say the 
words. They would not be true! ” 

Before Doctor Hernando had fully grasped the 
meaning of her speech, there came a sudden and im- 
perative rapping at the door, which Doctor Hernando 
answered. 

It was a bit of important business, and he stepped 
out. 

When he returned, Mignon was standing as if 
ready to depart. 

Her face was natural, and was very beautiful. 

As soon as he entered the door, she spoke in a 
businesslike manner that effectually stayed the 
words on his lips. 

“ Doctor Hernando, my acquaintance with phy- 


362 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


sicians is very limited. I know no one in the city 
but you. Will you direct me to some one who may 
be able to help me get into some hospital or training 
school? ” 

Doctor Hernando adjusted his glasses, and 
through them viewed Mignon in his own peculiar, 
careful way. 

In fact, he had so far recovered from the shock 
of her answer to his last request as to smile. 

" How would you like to train with the kind old 
gentleman who endowed the Working Woman’s 
Fund? ” 

" Is he a physician ? ” and there was real pleasure 
in Mignon’s voice. 

Doctor Hernando bowed. 

" I might have guessed it.” 

"You might have.” 

" And will he take me? ” 

" He will only be too glad to have you with him. 
He has been somewhat interested in you for several 
years, and the change you contemplate making will 
give him pleasure.” 

"And where shall I find him?” 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 


363 


“ I will give you his address,” and seating himself 
at his desk. Doctor Hernando drew a prescription 
pad toward him, and hurriedly wrote. 

Mignon looking across the room at him wondered, 
he seemed to have changed so in his mood since she 
came into the office. 

After a few scratches with his pen he threw it 
aside, blotted the paper, and carefully folded it. 

Then he swung his chair around. 

“ Before going to see him, I had better prepare 
you somewhat, for you will find the doctor a bit pe- 
culiar, though well-meaning. In the first place, do 
not thank him for what small service he has done 
you. He has helped others. He expected before he 
helped you that you would be thankful, and he has 
not lost confidence in his expectation. Then again, 
it is barely possible he will think you are more fitted 
for some other position than that of nursing. Physi- 
cians sometimes have need of women in other capaci- 
ties, and such positions are generally more respon- 
sible, better-paying and in every way more to be de- 
sired. And lastly, you will find him impatient, I am 
afraid; he will rather measure your confidence in him 


364 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


and your appreciation of him, by the readiness you 
show in undertaking at once whatever task he as- 
signs you. I should advise you to say to him, ‘ Doc- 
tor, what will you have me do first?’ This will 
please him, being *a peculiar man, and will make the 
rest easy.” 

“ I thank you so much,” and Mignon arose and 
held out her hand for the paper. 

Doctor Hernando lifted it from the desk, and held 
it a moment. 

“What are you to say?” 

“ I am to say, ‘ Doctor, what will you have me do 
first? ’ ” and Mignon smiled. 

“You will not forget to say that?” 

“ No, indeed.” 

“ It is important.” 

“ Yes, Doctor Hernando.” 

“ Here is his name, then,” and he handed the 
paper to her. 

She moved a step toward the door, then stopped. 

She had opened the paper, and the name that met 
her eye was, “Benj. Hernando, M. D.” 

She turned half toward the Doctor. 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 


365 


The paper slipped from her fingers. She caught 
at it, but it sailed across the room. 

Doctor Hernando sat quite still, watching her. 

“ Have you forgotten your question? ” he pres- 
ently inquired. 

Then she turned squarely toward him. 

“ Doctor/’ she said, “ what will you have me do 
first? ” 

“ Sit down, and I will tell you/’ and when she had 
taken a chair, he crossed the room and leaned against 
the wall at her side, as he had once leaned in the 
square bay-window at the Haven. 

His position was leisurely, almost carelessly, 
taken, and yet it suggested strength running deep, 
and long endurance. 

For a moment he squinted at her through his 
glasses. Then he removed them, and speaking de- 
liberately, said : 

“ You may get ready, first thing, to take the 
principal part in a wedding, which will take place to- 
night. I will stand by you, for the Doctor needs a 
wife — not a nurse.” 

Mignon, neither spoke nor moved, and Doctor 


366 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


Hernando could not see her face, but a slight mo- 
tion of her head prompted him to speak. 

“ Your dress is all right/’ he said, reassuringly. 
“ My bride must be her natural self. My wife may 
have a sealskin coat and a pink silk house-gown, or 
anything else she wants.” 

“ I do not want them,” said Mignon, almost un- 
der her breath. “ I only want ” and she stopped. 

“What?” 

“ You,” she answered, softly. 

For an instant, Doctor Hernando gazed at her, 
too transfixed with joy to move a muscle, then he 
took a quick step toward her and caught up her 
hand in a grasp strictly non-professional, being 
neither cool nor steady. 

“ Look at me,” he whispered, bending over her, 
and when she turned her face to his, radiant with 
the love that glorifies, he did not attempt to speak 
for a few seconds. 

When he did, he said in words that trembled with 
intense feeling, “ My own! My own ! ” 

A flush of pink crossed Mignon’s face, Doctor 
Hernando was so very near to her. 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 


367 


“ I will be/’ she said, in a voice almost as unsteady 
as his own, “ when ■” 

“ When what? ” 

“ When I am your wife.” 

With the pressure of his fingers tightening around 
her hand, Doctor Hernando looked into her face, 
until it suddenly became blurred, then he dropped 
her hand softly in her lap and said as he turned 
away: “ To-night.” 

The day before election, the hotel rotunda was 
filled with men, swarming like important bees, and 
buzzing. 

Betting was light, for the rumor had gotten out 
that the women were going to take a hand in politics 
the next day, and while the report was not taken 
seriously, still cautious men kept their hands on their 
purse strings. 

Among the men, Cornelius Mansfield was circu- 
lating freely, receiving a double share of congratu- 
lations; first on the wife that he had already en- 
snared by his manly charms, and secondly, on the 


368 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


political office that he was expected to ensnare with 
his political charms on the day following. 

Mr. and Mrs. Mansfield had more than enjoyed 
each other’s society during the twenty-four hours 
that they had been wed. She had talked to him, 
thinking of the sensation she would cause in society, 
and he had talked to her, planning meantime to get 
at least twenty thousand to invest in a new zinc mine 
that was about to be opened. 

He found her table service good, and her easy 
chairs comfortable, and she found him quite sena- 
torlike. 

He bought six boxes of choice new cigars, and she 
put some extra touches- to her new second-mourning 
outfit. 

Meantime, they were both interested in election. 

While the men were congratulating Mansfield, a 
carriage drove up to the main entrance of the hotel. 

This was no uncommon happening, still the men 
turned to see Doctor Hernando alighting, and to the 
surprise of all, assisting a lady from the carriage. 

There was a strangeness about this proceeding 
that made the men curious, so they watched. 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEALS. 


369 


With the lady, Doctor Hernando entered the main 
hall that ran lengthwise of the rotunda, and when 
they came to the foot of the stairs, he left her, and 
crossing the rotunda, went to the clerk’s desk, twisted 
the register around, and wrote. 

Then he returned to the lady, and the watching 
men saw the two disappear up the stairway. 

After they had gone, several of the men went to 
the desk. 

The register lay as he had left it, and on the 
open page, in bold relief, was written, “Benj. Her- 
nando, M. D., and wife.” 

These few words created another topic of conver- 
sation. 

“ Where did he get her? ” “ Who is she? ” “ How 
did the old boy muster enough courage to ask her? ” 
“Slow on women, but has a good account.” These, 
and similar remarks, were passed around, but none 
of the men knew who the woman was. 

The ripple caused by the appearance of Doctor 
Hernando and his wife soon passed, however, owing 
to the weightier matter of the impending election, 
and the crowd talked on, prophesying victory for the 


370 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


usually victorious ticket, but well Mansfield knew 
that he was a Philistine, and that the women were 
all but upon him, each armed with her jawbone of a 
ballot, for the fact of his marriage with Mrs. Hadley 
having been made known, was as oil poured into the 
Vesuvius that was ready to pour out its eruption. 

The trying scenes that took place when Cora 
Hadley Mansfield became assured that she was not a 
senator’s wife, are too harrowing to chronicle, and 
the rather heartless way her husband looked on when 
she had the accompanying hysterics, would not do 
justice to the tender affections of a husband of two 
days; but when she recovered from the hysterics, 
she went in quest of the new husband, her steady 
and determined strides jarring the house. 

Mansfield knew she was coming. 

“ How shall I get into society? ” she said, hope- 
lessly, when the subject was well under headway. 

He blew smoke carelessly, without looking at her. 

“ You’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” he 
replied, heartlessly. 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 


371 


Mrs. Mansfield turned red with anger, but it was 
no use. He did not see her. 

Then she began a hysterical sobbing. 

He winced, but it was still too early to wince 
aloud ; he had not yet discovered the fifty thousand 
that he counted on as his half. 

“ Don’t take it to heart,” he said, with an en- 
forced touch of pity. “ We can be happy yet. Let’s 
take a trip to Europe.” 

This speech was not as good as an election, but it 
was perhaps next best, for Cora Hadley had wanted 
all her life to visit Europe. 

Her sobs died into snubs, and then stopped alto- 
gether. 

“ How lovely of you,” she purred. “ When will 
we go? How long will we stay? ” 

“ That depends,” he said, thoughtfully, for he did 
not want to cripple his zinc mine project. “ How is 
your bank account?” 

“ My bank account?” she inquired, blankly. “ I 
have no bank account.” 

“No bank account! ” and his cigar tumbled from 


372 


JUSTICE TO THE WOMAN. 


his open month. “ What do you mean? Where is 
your property? — your money?” 

“ I have no property — no money.” 

“ Good Lord! ” Mansfield gasped, actually turning 
pale. “What do you suppose I married you for?” 
he exclaimed, in a high key. 

“ What did I marry you for? ” she retorted, in a 
key pitched fully as impressive. 

“You have no bank account?” he charged, with 
yet more stress and volume. 

“You are no senator,” and the stress and volume 
of her voice was a match for his. 

At this juncture, a carriage drove past, and Mr. 
and Mrs. Cornelius Mansfield, on looking out, saw 
each of them an old acquaintance, for the occupants 
of the carriage were Doctor Hernando and his 
wife. 

Mrs. Mansfield still towered over her husband, 
and he picked up a paper. 

The first lines that caught his eye bore the news 
that, “Benj. Hernando, M. D., and wife,” would at 
an early date, sail for Europe. 

With one such glance as would forever have 


IN WHICH RETRIBUTION APPEARS. 


378 


chilled the heart of a less timid man, Cornelius 
Mansfield’s wife left him, and as the door slammed 
behind her, she heard him darkly muttering from be- 
hind the paper something about 
A modern retribution. 




By KATHARINE TYNAN 


Oh, What a Plague is Love! 


i2mo, 75 cents 


This little story of English life sparkles with wit, and 


the delicate humor is sustained with rare spirit to the 


last word. 

“Leigh Hunt would have delighted in Katharine Tynan. He knew how to 
value high spirits in a writer, and the gaiety of this cheerful story would have 
charmed him immensely.” — The Saturday Review , London, Eng. 

“A charming little story told in the spirit of high comedy. Its hero is 
no longer young, but he has an abnormal capacity for falling in love and 
thus keeping his grown-up children in a condition of continual anxiety. 
He finally discovers the right person, and the story ends happily. The dia- 
logue is always bright, the situations always amusing, and the vivacity is 
unfailing.” — Saturday Evening Gazette, Boston. 


The Handsome Brandons 


i2mo, illustrated, $1.50 


“A very attractive and brightly written story of Irish life. Altogether it 
is a very fresh and delightful bit of work.” — Bookman. 

“ The Brandons are lovable Irish people, and the Brandon girls have a 
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the love story which will commend itself to many; but it is as a story of 
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thoroughly conversant with the best qualities of the people and the country, 
that it will be most appreciated.” — Weekly Sun , London, Eng. 

“A delightful story, full of romance and excitement. Healthy-minded 
girls are certain to find it very attractive.” — Educational Times. 

“A charming story. The heroine is a type of a good and unselfish girl, 
not often to be met with nowadays. We can thoroughly recommend this 
book.” — Court Circular , London. 


Sold by all booksellers, or mailed on receipt of price, by the 

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The Dread and Fear of Ki ngs 

BY 

J. BRECKENRIDGE ELLIS 

i2mo, $1.25. 

This romance, of which the historical background is the 
reign of terror in Rome in the time of Tiberius, will take 
rank with the most famous novels dealing with ancient 
life. The historical setting is careful and accurate, and 
gives a vivid picture of the reign of the profligate Caesar. 
A skillful love story runs throughout; the dialogue is piquant, 
and the book abounds with deeds of valor. 


“ For stirring adventures and romantic love scenes, one need go no farther. 
Mr. Ellis has written a book that will be eagerly read by all who like a stirring 
and well-told story.” — The Chicago Tribune. 

‘‘The author has found it possible to produce a Roman narrative without 
persecuting and shedding the blood of Christians, and for this, as well as other 
reasons, lovers of the historical novel will probably relish ‘ The Dread and Fear 
of Kings.’ * * * The plot is skillfully woven, and at no time does it lack in 
interest.” — The Indianapolis News. 

“ Mr. Ellis has written an entertaining and lively chronicle of the reign of 
Tiberius and the ascendency of his favorite Sejanus. The local color of the story 
is quite convincing. The author gives an excellent notion of the various types 
of the many nationalities that thronged Rome at the time, and a spirited descrip- 
tion of the sports in the amphitheater at Fidenae and its collapse at the height of 
the games. Unlike the majority of the romances of this era, the story ends most 
happily, and leaves the reader with a sense of having been both instructed and 
entertained.” — Commercial Advertiser , New York. 

“ It is the story of ancient Rome in the reign of Tiberius Caesar — a period of 
riot, debauchery, and terror. * * * One of the most interesting characters 
in the book is Alexis the Greek, whose predominant trait is intense love for the 
beautiful. His passionate nature gets him into all sorts of trouble. His friend 
in need, Varro, imparts to the story zest and life, for Varro could not live with- 
out adventure. Varro is exceedingly well drawn. ‘The Dread and Fear of 
Kings’ is both entertaining and instructive.” — The Chicago Evening Post. 

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By M. IMLAY TAYLOR 


The Cobbler of Nimes. 12mo, $1.25. 

A delightful tale of love and heroism in the days when the 
Huguenots of Languedoc waged their desperate fight for liberty 
of conscience against the tyranny of Louis XIV. The historical 
incidents are subordinated to the interest of a fascinating charac- 
ter-study and a story of love touched as if with the purity and 
freshness of a summer morning. 

The Cardinal's Musketeer. With Portrait, 12mo 
357 pages, $1.25. 

The scene of the story is laid in France in the times when 
Cardinal Richelieu was at the height of his power. As a striking 
picture of the times and as a tale of love and adventure “The 
Cardinal’s Musketeer” leaves nothing to be desired. 

The House of the Wizard. With Portrait, 12mo, 
340 pages, $1.25. 

The story is a strong, well-studied, and striking reproduction 
of the social and political conditions of the age of King Henry 
VIII. ... As a romance it is swift, overflowing with life and 
action. ... In respect to the dramatic vividness and force of her 
picture, Miss Taylor shows the unerring instinct of the born 
story-teller.— Chicago Chronicle. 

A Yankee Volunteer. 12mo, 383 pages, $1.25. 

A delicious story of the revolutionary war, in a pretty setting 
of exquisite nature pictures of scene and character. “A Yankee 
Volunteer” is indeed a story fraught with such exquisite beauty 
as is seldom associated with history.— Boston Times. 

An Imperial Lover. With Portrait, 12mo, 377 
pages, $1.25. 

M. Imlay Taylor has the story-teller’s gift in perfection. 
Every word of this new Russian romance, “An Imperial Lover,” 
is as captivating as was every word of “On the Red Staircase.”— 
The Times-Herald , Chicago. 

On the Red Staircase. With Frontispiece, 12mo, 
352 pages, $1.25. 

A thrilling tale of intrigue and barbaric plot. . . . The book 
is exciting, well sustained and excellently written. . . . Another 
“Zenda” story. — The Times-Herald , Chicago. 


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